A Heart Break...

Just realized something.. its about heartbreak..

The heart doesn't break in a snap.  It doesn't fall and shatter on the ground; there is no cracking or ripping.  A heart breaks like a flower wilts - quietly yet.. suddenly...

She keeps the flowers on her desk. Roses, mostly. She likes Roses. They are cheerful and intense; She loves that. Their soft petals tantalize her skin whenever she touches them, and their colors brighten up the room. But then if she gets too busy to pay them much of attention... if she forgets to water them for just one day, they start to look sad and gloomy. The intense red is still there but they start to run low on vibrance. She waters them . Some life comes back, the breathing becomes easier.  Now she knows they'll last for another week or so. She hasn't hurt them enough yet.

But sometimes, its just too late. One day she comes into the room, and sees their necks down, even though their petals are still soft. Then no matter whatever she does, they will never look up again. They keep wilting slowly - dying. It doesn't matter how many times she waters them or give them plant nourishment, they are finished now. She can only wait for them to die out completely and disappear... only to become a memory for some time, and then forgotten.

This is how a heart breaks.

change.. it happens...

Every time you leave someone behind or they decide to quit on you, things don't remain the same. There's always a change - sometimes a major change or sometimes just a minor one which you brush off.
Whether you miss these people from your life or not, they change you in a certain way and then they come back to you in pieces, years after they are gone.
Some come in dreams, others come in places, a few in songs here and there, and many on occasions and festivals.

Here is the interesting thing about life:
It kicks you down, in fact it kicks you while you are down. It brutally bashes you and breaks your bones - one at a time - so that you do not miss out on the pain. Life is not a disaster, it is a slow torture. But just when you think that you cannot go on any longer, and life is convinced that you have given up, it brings you flowers and tend to your wounds and helps you get up on your feet only to knock you down some other time. At the end of it all, it is such a humbling experience.

and I love my life.. it teaches us to get up and fight! \m/ :)



-omi

यादें.. ( II )

चेहरा मेरा था.. निगाहें उसकी..
ख़ामोशी में भी.. वो बातें उसकी..

मेरे चेहरे पे ग़ज़ल लिखती गईं..
शेर कहती हुई ऑंखें उसकी..

शोख लम्हों का पता देने लगीं..
तेज़ होती हुई सांसें उसकी...

ऐसे मौसम भी गुज़रे हम ने..
सुबहें जब अपनी थीं.. शामें उसकी ...

फैसला मौज-ए-हवा ने लिखा..
आंधियां मेरी.. बहारें उसकी..

नींद इस सोच से टूटी अक्सर..
किस तरह कटती हैं रातें उसकी..

दूर रह कर भी सदा रहती है...
मुझको थामे हुई बाहें उसकी..


PS : all words are not mine.. found a sher ( the first two lines ) somewhere while surfing on the internet. I do not know the shaayar of that sher also.
just thought to share the sher with you all. :)
thank you!

शब्बा खैर..

यादें.. ( I )

कुछ यह है की मुद्दतों से हम भी नहीं थे रोए..
कुछ जहन में उलझा था अहबाब का दिलासा...
फिर यूँ हुआ..
के सावन आँखों में आ बसे थे...
फिर यूँ हुआ..
के दिल भी था अबला सा..
अब सच कहें तो यारो हमको खबर नहीं थी...
बन जायेगा क़यामत एक वाकिया ज़रा सा...
तेवर थे बेरुखी के.. अंदाज़ थे दोस्ती के..
वोह अजनबी थे लेकिन लगते थे अपने से...
हम दश्त थे के दर्या....
हम जहर थे के अमृत..
नाहक था जहम हमको.. जब वोह नहीं थे प्यासे..
हम ने भी इसको देखा.. कल शाम इत्तफाक से...

इतनाही कह पाए हक से...
अपने भी हाल है लोगो.. अब इस "omi" से

तुम्हे सचमुच खबर नही..

उसे मेरे हाल की खबर नही..
या दुआ में मेरे असर नही...?

मुझे दर-पेश धूप की मुसिबते...
मेरी राह में कोई शजर नही..

तेरे बाद कोई गुजरे यहाँसे...
मेरा दिल है.. कोई राह-गुजर नही..

जहां तेरी यादों को बहा सकूं..
इतना कोई समंदर नही..


miss you a lot..

एक सांगू? ऐकशील??

एक सांगू? ऐकशील??
तू ना... मला खूप आवडतेस...
थोडी चंचल.. थोडी गुमसुम....
कधी ना... खरंच वेडी वाटतेस...
एक सांगू? ऐकशील??
तू ना..मला खूप आवडतेस...

तसे आवडणारे बरेच आहेत..
पण तुझ्यात ना.. "वोह" बात है यार!
तू ना अगं.... कशी "आपली" वाटतेस...
एक सांगू? ऐकशील??
तू ना.. मला खूप आवडतेस...

हे तुझं पटकन गोष्टी विसरणं...
बोलता बोलता मधेच "जाऊ दे.. सोड..." असं म्हणणं...
मला कळतच नाही तुझं असं बोलणं..
का सांगत नाहीस मला??
माहित नाही कुठल्या धुंदीत असतेस...
एक सांगू? ऐकशील??
तू ना.. मला खूप आवडतेस...

Someone Up There is Very Happy for Them!

His eyes fluttered open as the sun rays welcomed him through the window. He wondered if they had left the curtain open. Half asleep he tried to see why the sun was shining right in his eyes. After fully opening his eyes, he realized that the curtains were drawn but a mischievous corner was letting the sun rays come in which happened to land right on his face. It was Sunday and he was not waking up so early. So, he got up, cursing underneath his breath he straightened the curtain and came back to bed. It was then when he saw her lying next to him. As always he couldn’t take his gaze off of her and couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could be as beautiful as she was and how in the world had such a beautiful woman landed on his bed, not only for one day but for an entire lifetime?!

Someone up there must have been very happy with her.

He grinned at the thought and snuggled with her to take a closer look. As he touched her she tossed in her sleep and like always she set the blanket straight on him putting her hand on his chest.

Her care had never stopped even when she was asleep. How could she know every time he was not in the blanket? He could never answer that question, but then again he could never answer a lot of the questions he had about her, like, how she always figured out that he was in trouble. He used to get her phone calls at the oddest times asking him if everything was ok. She would call him exactly at the time when he needed to talk to someone, but how in the world did she know when she had been miles away from him?

“I just get a bad feeling, honey, I can feel it inside”, was always her answer.

Instinctively, he kissed her forehead and took her in his arms like a little child. Well, that was what she was—a little child. A very spoilt one, for that matter.

She had been the wildest woman he ever met. She had the most outrageous ideas and was never afraid to break the rules. He had not seen a woman so bold and passionate. She was fiery in her attitude and he knew that the passion in her eyes attracted him to her in the first place. Over time, he realized that she had the kindest heart and she loved him deeply. However, he was never able to tame her. He tried for a while but it didn’t happen. She was not meant to be tamed. She was the go-getter and no one could stop her. He learned to live with it. But, he loved her with all his heart, and he loved her for her passion, for her love of life, for her wildness. She showed him a whole different world—her world. Her beautiful world that he had become a part of. He had never regretted anything about his life. He knew she was the one when he had proposed her and he knew she was his destiny the day they got married.

In each and every one of us there is a longing to be understood by someone who really cares. When a person is understood, he or she can put up with almost anything in the world.

She understood him. She understood him more than anyone else and the realization made him want to break down and cry. Just how many people could say this years after their marriage? Both of them had been really lucky. He knew he was just… blessed.

He tilted his head and looked at her again. She was peaceful with her lips almost curling up in a smile, her ravishing long hair covering half of her face. Anyone seeing her angelic face peacefully sleeping could have never guessed that the night before in her pajamas, she was dancing hysterically on some random hip hop beats. She was laughing and dancing all over him.

“I want to parttttyyyy”, she said with her arms in the air.

“Sweety, I have told you, you can go out with your friends on weekends”, he had said without taking his eyes off the book he was reading.

“No, not that kind of party”, she replied making a face. “I want to party with you, just the two of us, you know”. She put her head on his lap distracting him from his reading.

“You are soo boring Mr.’, she complained snatching the book from him.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to kiss me”, she said seriously.

She has always been bold like that.

Only a woman can make a man come to his knees and leave him breathless.

For him that woman has been her. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back.

"Now what???"

“If you think this is so easy, you are oh-so wrong! You want it, you have to come and get it,” she said grinning and ran off the bed.

The next half hour was spent chasing her throughout the house and he had only been able to catch her after she was tired of running and gave in to him, and that was how they both landed on the bed where she was still sleeping.

She just had too much energy, like a little kid who would only sleep when he is utterly exhausted. She was a full time job for him.

His mind fully awake then, he decided there was no point in lying down on the bed. He was awake and it was time for him to wake her up too. He decided the same tactic he used every time—kiss her lips. She didn’t wake up but he could see a little smile curling her lips.
He brushed her hair with his hands. Touched her eyes lightly with his fingers, whispered in her ears asking her to wake up but she didn’t move. However her face expression clearly told him that she didn’t want to wake up just yet. He tossed her body straight in an attempt to wake her up. After some more teasing here and there, he was still unable to get her attention. Finally he gave up and said loudly.

“Hey woman, wake up, your man needs breakfast.”

“He can go and make himself some,’ was the grumpy reply.

“You know I am not going to cook, after all these years you should know that.”

“ummmm…. Nooo.. mee sleepy…. You sleepy”, she groaned never opening her eyes.

“Ok I am getting up then and leaving you alone in the bed,” he knew she hated when he would leave her sleeping like that.

“No”, was a simple reply.

“Oh yeah? Well I am outta here.”

He decided to get up when she pulled herself on top of him, snuggling her head in his neck.

“Who is getting up now?”

He was going to have her way this time too and he knew that. Besides, her touch was so addicting, he didn’t feel like letting go.

Giving up, he wrapped his arms around her;

this time surely someone up there was very happy with him.

Cycle of Replacement.. ( Part # 1 )

कभी कभी यूँही बैठे बैठे...
एक आम से दिन में दिल फिर से टूटता है
Just when you think you have forgotten all the sweet nothings, and the memories of the pretentious fights, it all comes back to you in a venue you least expect to serve as a reminder.

आज न-जाने बैठे बैठे वह यादें कहाँ से वापिस आ गयी ...
वह मसनूई घुस्सा, वोही बिना-वजह के नखरे..

पता नहीं कितने सालों से हर वक़्त उनसे अपने नखरे उठवाते रहना, उनसे उलटी सीधी फरमाइशे करते रहना... मेरा सबसे पसंदीदा मश्घला बन चुका था...
ज़रा ज़रा सी बात पर उनका नाराज़ हो कर चल पड़ना और फिर कुन-अखियों से देखना के वो पीछे आऐं या नहीं...

मेरा खियाल था यह बचपना वक़्त के साथ साथ ख़तम हो ही जायेगा…
पर शायद कुछ आदतें कभी आप का पीछा नहीं छोडती हैं…
वक़्त बदल जाता है…
आप बदल जाते हो…
पर कुछ चीज़ें बस सताती करती ही रहती हैं...
हमेशा...

यह सच है....cycle of replacement में मुहब्बत की replacement नहीं होती .

Lying to Myself..

Some things I know I have lied to myself – and this is one of them.

After swearing to destroy all of her things, I know I haven’t really discarded all ... somewhere hidden in an album lie, now yellowing photographs - still beautiful with a hint of those times – in an academic file alongside my notes – I am sure - lies buried - a birthday card – and amongst the modest treasures of my wallet is a guitar pick – that still fancies her touch. ..

Masked cleverly in my words, somewhere lie - subtle references - to memories only one reader can relate...... In empty corridors of a dilapidated structure, there still can be heard - echoes of her laughter and although, now abandoned – there still flows a river - now mourning with salted water.

In the waking hours of some nights, the bed still longs her warmth. And the still air – now devoid of her scent – feels like a vacuum mocking my heart.

On some things I know, I have lied to myself and this is one of them ...... Oh! How I wish there were words that could describe – How much I miss her on some days ....

Flashed from the Past....

A lazy morning, a sky refusing to light up, a vista of clouds hanging low and grey, a wind caressed with moisture ........ and I... think of you.

I remember the evening we spent together in our favorite restaurant. My glance as it traced your silhouette opposite me. The glint of evening sun-rays on those rose-red lips. I remember being intoxicated - in part by wine and in part by your beauty.

There are memories one does not divulge easily. This is one of them. But there is a dream more real than memory - remembered not in your mind - but etched in your body. And this is one of them.

My fingers remember the touch of your skin, the strength of that warmth as I held you in a slow still dance. My will still longs the challenge in your smile. Never since has a woman, so tested my heart.

I have fought long and hard and learnt - there are some things you can not erase despite try.

Some things there are - not remembered in your mind.

Those Starry Nights!!!!

Every time there was a power outage at night, they'd climb the roof of their house and lay on the bricked roof watching the stars. They'd count stars and compete for the largest number. Sometimes they'd sit and make shapes out of the stars while he smoked his cigarette and she would cough from time to time from the smoke but remained too busy with the stars to care. Sometimes she'd put her tiny head on his lap, at other times on his shoulder. Some days they'd find a shooting star and her eyes would light up with excitement. Its been a while since she have seen a shooting star now. She has almost forgotten how that feels like.

There was a little sort-of-a restaurant around the corner, dhaba, they call it there and late at night, the owner of the place would play old romantic classical songs - sometimes Ghazals, sometimes some filmy numbers. It was comforting whenever they could hear the sound of that dim melodious music. Sometimes he would sing along, sometimes he'd listen to it quietly - lost in his own thoughts while she'd wonder what to make of it. At other times they both would try to figure out which song it was or who was the singer. There were days when they would fall asleep on the roof because it was too dark and too hot to go downstairs, and she wouldn't realize when she fell asleep in his arms until the sun rays woke her up the next morning.


But that was before the nightmares worsen. Somehow those were simpler days - before it all turned black.



-omi

Memories of a Coffee..

My Darlin',

I am sure you remember all those days.
I am sure you remember all those moments you spent with me-- the hazy mornings and those eventful evenings.
I am sure you have not forgotten all the nights you slept in my arms.

I know you remember that half-empty coffee mug which has a part of you and a part of me in it. Lying on my empty bed, I can still see parts of us in that coffee mug.
It seems like I absorb a part of your soul whenever I take a sip out of it.

Darlin’, I am sure you can still feel my passionate kisses on your hands and your forehead and at times… on your lips. The kisses, you always longed for.
The kisses that made me feel weak and strong at the same time.

Do you remember the warm summer rain when we were walking, half wet? No talking. Just walking.

I know you can still see my sparkling eyes which always made you say, “Omi, your eyes tell me that in just another moment you are going to do some very mischievous.”

Please come and take a look at that half empty coffee mug which is still lying on the table. I have put my part in it. Where is yours?

Please come and see that my dark - brown sparkling eyes are empty today.

Amidst the warm summer rain, my eyes are filled with tears. It's the same rain but today... I am walking alone.


-omi

आपली शाळा बदलली.. St. Num's झाली..

पुन्हा एकदा त्या दगडी भिंतींचा गारवा जाणवला आज..
पुन्हा एकदा लहान बनून जावसं वाटलं आज...

शहाबादी फरश्यांवर धडपडून हजारदा गुढघे फोडून घेतले होते..
आज त्या शहाबादी फरश्या दिसल्याच नाहीत..
दिसल्या त्या फक्त चकचकीत फरश्या... "कजारिया"वाल्या...

वेगवेगळ्या कोनातून बाहेर खिळे असलेली ती बाकडी दिसली नाहीत..
डबा अडकवण्यासाठी जे हूक्स असायचे... त्यांचा उपयोग half-pant चे खिसे फाटण्यासाठीच व्हायचा...
दिसले ते फक्त रंगी-बेरंगी "बेंचेस"...

कुठलीही जखम झाली की "आयोडीन" लावण्यासाठी प्रयोगशाळेकडे पळायचो..
आजही प्रयोगशाळा तिथेच.. पण "आयोडीन"ची बाटली दिसलीच नाही..
दिसली ती फक्त चकचकीत काचा लावलेली "LAB"...

अनेक gatherings ज्या स्टेज नी बघितली..
ते ही नाही..

ते दगडी व्हरांडे..
तिथून बेभान होऊन पळताना
कोणाला तरी जोरात धडकणं.. धडपडणं..
तिथे खेळलेले ते असंख्य खेळ..
"पायमारी", बाकड्यावरची पळापळी, विषामृत,
त्याच बाकाड्यांची फळकुटं तोडून जिवाच्या आकांतानी खेळलेलं क्रिकेट,
रुमाल पाणी.. रुमालाचे ball करून खेळलेले catch-catch,
आणि हे सग्गळं खेळताना...
प्रचंड मळलेले आम्ही.. आणि त्याहूनही जास्त मळलेले आमचे पांढरे शर्ट आणि खाकी pants..
त्यावरून घरी येऊन आईचे खाल्लेले फटके....
आज पण पुन्हा लहान व्हावसं वाटलं...
स्टेज वर जाऊन पुन्हा भाषण ठोकावसं वाटलं..
जुन्या आठवणींमध्ये मन पुन्हा रमलं..

काही शिक्षक भेटले..
त्यांनी ओळखलं..
बरं वाटलं..
मग त्यांना ठेवलेली नावं आठवली..
शाहिस्तेखान, वेटर, केळ्यांची जोडी, काळा ह्रीतिक,.. सग्गळं सग्गळं आठवलं...
आणि त्यांनी आमच्यावर केलेलं प्रेमही आठवलं...

पण का कोणास ठाऊक.. आज सगळंच थोडं वेगळंच वाटलं..
ती माया, ते प्रेम कुठेतरी हरवून गेल्यासारखं वाटलं..
दर २६ जानेवारीला सकाळी लवकर जाऊन आम्ही फळे लिहायचो..
तेही नाही दिसलं..
सक्काळी सक्काळी एक अप्रतिम रांगोळी दारात काढलेली असायची..
ती ही नाही दिसली...
वर्गांमधून.. त्या व्हरांड्यातून हिंडलो..
"आमचे" वर्ग शोधत..
साले ते ही नाही सापडले..
शाळेच्या आत गेल्यागेल्या दिसणारा तो समोरचा पुतळा..
तो ही नाही दिसला..
आमचं हक्काचं ग्रंथालय...
तेही सापडायला वेळ लागला...
असंख्य वेळा डान्स आणि नाटकाची तालीम केली ते सभागृह...
ते दिसलं.. पण बंद होतं...

फक्त एकच आठवणीची खूण दिसली..
डौलानं अजूनही उभा असलेला तो पूल..
तोच पूल..
तिथूनच मी आयुष्यात पहिल्यांदा हिंदी प्रतिज्ञा म्हणली होती..
सगळ्यांसमोर...
मूल्यशिक्षणाच्या तासाला अनेक गाणी गायली होती...
बक्षीसं घेतली होती...
टाळ्या मिळवल्या होत्या..

मग कळलं, स्वतःला समजावलं..
बाळा, हे सन २०११ आहे..
आपण pass होऊन ९ वर्षं झालीत..
आहेस कुठे..??
मन थाऱ्यावर आलं...
खूप फोटो काढले..
"बेंचेस" चे...
"रंगवलेल्या" आणि "साहित्य-लिखित" त्या "बेंचेस"चे, भिंतीचे..
"कमळ" झालेले पंखे असलेल्या त्या छताचे...
"बदललेल्या" "माझ्या" शाळेचे..
"आयोडीन ठेवलेलं नसलेल्या" त्या "LAB" च्या खिडकीचे....

पुन्हा एकदा त्या दगडी भिंतींचा गारवा जाणवला आज..
पण त्या "रंगवलेल्या" भिंती बघून, वाटली एक विचित्र लाज..


- omi
( एक नूमवीय )

past...

We usually went there late at night. 1am… may be 2am… driving on a lone dark road. It was so dark that if you turn off the head lights of the car, you wouldn’t see a thing two feet from you. The road runs along the river and we had parked the car at the same spot every time to take a walk along the river. The river had always been still, dark and muddy. For some strange reason, I never saw the water flow in that part of the river or at that time of the night. It was always still and black. We could hear nothing but the sound of our own feet or when we would occasionally whisper to each other. No wind blowing. No crickets chirping. No traffic noise. No nothing.

I usually had a hard time finding a place to sit as the grass was long and the ground was always muddy, and I remembered literally pulling you by your sleeve to make you sit down beside me. It got very cold around there as well.
The air was filled with silence. Dead Silence. I liked listening to it at times although it would make me feel uncomfortable on occasions.

“This place is so dead,” you had said staring in the dark.

I found it romantic then… kind of sweet. I was determined to find love in it than the darkness. But then again, I had always struggled to find beauty in things associated with you and had failed miserably every time.

After a long time, today I realized that there was no love it had to offer. It was not welcoming. It was not soothing. We just went there to get out of our troubles, or maybe we wanted to embrace our screwed-up realities. We went there with empty minds and for no known reason.
I wonder why you took me there for the first time. Did you take me there so that I can see and embrace that emptiness and I failed to get the point?

I suppose, today I can agree with you.

This place is indeed dead. No more..
Just like you are...

miss you.. :|


-omi