भाभीजी

मेरे दिल का दरवाज़ा सीधे पेट से हो कर जाता है, इस बात का पता मुझे काफी देर से चला। हुआ यूँ की एक बार मैंने उन लोगों की लिस्ट बनाने की कोशिश की जिन्हें मैं बेहद पसंद करता हूँ और अपने स्वभाव के विपरीत उन घरों में मैं बार-बार जाना चाहूँगा। लिस्ट ज्यादा लम्बी नहीं बन पाई, लेकिन कुछ बातें स्पष्ट हो गयी थी। लिस्ट में उन्ही लोगों के नाम ऊपर थे जिन्होंने जिंदगी के किसी न किसी बीते दिन मुझे बढ़िया, लज़ीज़ खाना खिलाया हो और उस खाने में घी, मक्खन की बहुमतता के साथ-साथ सुलभ स्नेह का भी छौंका लगाया गया हो। घी-मक्खन और स्नेह दोनों की अधिकता के कारण लिस्ट में सबसे ऊपर मेरी माँ थी। उनकी खासियत यह है की उन्हें पता रहता है कौन सी चीज़ मुझे कितनी मात्र में चाहिए होती है इसलिए कभी ऐसी नौबत नहीं आती है की मेरी थाली में खाना पड़ा हो।

नयी बात यह है की फ़िलहाल इस सूचि में एक बढोतरी हो गयी है। बीते दिनों एक मित्र के घर जाने का अवसर मिला। वहां मेरी मुलाकात भाभीजी से हुई। नयी जगह और नए लोग दोनों से खासा सहमा हुआ रहता हूँ, इसलिए लोगों से घुलने-मिलने में थोडा वक़्त लग जाता है और तब तक इस तेज़ चलती दुनिया में अक्सर लोग आगे निकल जाते हैं। यहाँ ऐसा नहीं हुआ। हालाँकि भाभीजी से यह मेरी पहली मुलाक़ात नहीं थी लेकिन नयेपन वाली बात यह थी की उन दिन मैं यूनीवर्सिटी में होता था और मेरी समझ अभी वैसे ही कम है, उस समय तो न के बराबर होती थी। उम्र के इस पड़ाव पर थोडा ही सही लेकिन इंसानों के बारे में समझ तो रखने ही लगा हूँ। हालाँकि मैं रूसो के इन्सानी प्रकृति वाले फलसफे को जहाँ वो कहते हैं की सभी इन्सान अच्छे ही होते हैं पूरी तरह तरजीह देता हूँ, लेकिन कभी-कभी उदास तो होना ही पड़ता है। उनसे मिलने से पहले कुछ इसी तरह के मिले-जुले ख्याल मेरे ज़ेहन में उतर रहे थे।

रेलगाड़ी वैसे ही लेट थी ऊपर से हाड़ कपाने वाली ठण्ड। बारह बजे के करीब उनके घर पहुंचा। नमस्ते कर सामने वाले सोफे पर बैठा। उन्होंने जल्दी से नहा-धोकर तैयार होने को कहा। गरम पानी पहले से ही रखा हुआ था। थोड़ी ही देर में तैयार हो खाने की मेज़ पर पहुंचा। गाड़ी के विलम्ब होने की सूचना उन्हें पहले ही दे दी गयी थी, इसलिए आटे को पहले से ही गुंध कर रखा हुआ था। बैठते ही एक के बाद एक खाने से भरी प्लेटें मेज़ पर प्रकट होनी शुरू हो गयी। फ़िर भटूरों के तलने की आवाज़ आने लगी और गरमा-गरम भटूरे मेरी थाली में थे। पहला ही कौर जैसे ही मुंह में गया लगा की अभी तक ज़िन्दगी में कुछ अधूरा था। शायद अब पूरा हो गया। करीब आधे घंटे तक पेट पूजा करने के बाद ही मेज़ को छोड़ पाया। वैसे खाने का तो अभी और मन था लेकिन सोचा की पेट तो अपना ही है इस तरह पेट की दशा पर तरस खाकर उठ गया।

फिर एक मित्र के विवाह कार्यक्रम में शामिल होने का न्योता था और उस शहर में आने का मेरा मुख्य प्रयोजन भी। शाम को वहीँ हो लिये। रात भर शादी का कार्यक्रम चलता रहा। सुबह वापस आ गए। भाभीजी के घर पहुँच गए। आज मुलायम कचोरियाँ नाश्ते की मेज़ पर हमारा इंतज़ार कर रही थी। साथ में रायता, दही, शोरबेदार सब्ज़ी वगैरह-वगैरह। समय लेकर फिर खाने का पूरा स्वाद लिया। रात के खाने में विशेष प्रबंध था। पनीर, गोभी और कढ़ी की प्रमुखता थी। रात थोड़ी ज्यादा ज़रूर हो गयी थी और सामान्य रूप से स्वयं बनाये नियम के अनुसार मैं देर रात को खाने की जगह नहीं खाना पसंद करता हूँ, लेकिन मेज़ पर स्वादिष्ट व्यंजनों को देखकर एक दिन के लिए मैंने अपना नियम तोड़ना ही बेहतर समझा। मज़े से फिर करीब 40-45 मिनट बैठ कर खाने का पूरा आनंद लिया।

अगला दिन मेरा आखिरी दिन था। वापस आने का तो बिलकुल ही मन नहीं था। पता था की अब अगले दिन से वही पुरानी दिनचर्या और वही पुराना खाना इंतज़ार कर रहा है। मन दुखी हो रहा था, लेकिन मन को समझाना ही पड़ा, वो कहते हैं न की सभी अच्छी चीज़ें एक दिन ज़रूर ख़त्म हो जाती हैं। तो शायद वो दिन आ गया था। नाश्ते की मेज़ पर पड़े आलू के पराठे और ऊपर से ढेर सारा मक्खन, टमाटर, मिर्च की चटनी और मीठी दही ने पल भर के लिए भुला ही दिया की अब मुझे जाना ही पड़ेगा। पेट भर खाया। फिर जैसे ही उठने वाला था भाभीजी ने एक और पराठा मेरी प्लेट में डाल दिया। उसे भी धीरे-धीरे खा लिया।

समय अपनी गति से बढ़ रहा था लेकिन मुझे लगा कम्बख्त वक़्त ने तेज़ चाल पकड़ ली हो और नाश्ता करते-करते ही ट्रेन का वक़्त नज़दीक आ गया। थोड़े भारी मन से नाश्ते की मेज़ पर से उठा और जल्दी से तैयार हुआ। भाभीजी ने रात का खाना भी पैक कर दिया, उसे बैग में डाला, बैग को कंधे पर लटकाया फिर घर से निकल आया। दरवाज़े पर भाभीजी खड़ी थीं। मैंने अंतिम बार प्रणाम किया। उन्होंने कहा की वो मेरी शादी में मेरे घर आएँगी। सुनकर शायद थोडा सुखद आश्चर्य हुआ की चलो किसी को तो लगा की मेरी भी शादी हो सकती है क्योंकि ऐसी कोई सम्भावना दूर-दूर तक नहीं दिखती है। मैंने सबसे ‘गुड-बाय’ कहा। फिर मित्र ने बाईक पर बैठाया और हम स्टेशन की तरफ निकल पड़े। बाईक पर थोड़ी दूर जाते ही मुझे जसपाल भट्टी के कॉमेडी शो के पी.एच.डी. वाले एक एपिसोड की याद आ गयी। इसमें जसपाल भट्टी की एक कार होती है जो बार-बार रूक जाती है और स्टूडेंट्स को बार-बार उसे धकेलना पड़ता है। खैर थोड़ी मशक्कत के बाद समय से हम स्टेशन पहुँच गये।

1.40 पर गाड़ी खुल गयी। मित्र साहब को अलविदा कहा और चुपचाप अपनी सीट पर बैठ गया। फिर वही पुराना सिलसिला शुरू हो गया। पेड़ों और बिजली के खम्बों का ट्रेन की उलटी दिशा में सरपट भागना, उन्हीं स्टेशनों का दुबारा आना और अंतिम पड़ाव जहाँ से फिर से पुरानी ज़िन्दगी की रेलगाड़ी शुरू हो गयी। सफ़र में एक ही बात अच्छी थी और वो था उनका पैक किया हुआ खाना। काफी सलीके से मैंने उसे खोला और वक़्त लेकर अंतिम कौर तक धीरे-धीरे खाया और मन ही मन उनका शुक्रिया अदा किया।

मेरी ज़िन्दगी का एक आसान सा फलसफा है जिसकी धुरी इस बात को मानने पर टिकी है की हमारा पैदा होना कसीनो के खेल की तरह है। सुई कहीं भी आकर रुक सकती है और विजेता कोई भी हो सकता है। इसीलिए मज़हब और ज़ात जैसे महज़ पैदाईशी चीज़ों को इतना तव्वजोह देना लाज़मी नहीं है। ज़रूरी यह है की उसके बाद हम क्या करते हैं। क्या हम अपने बंद किलों से निकल कर मानवता के विशाल फ़ैलाव को महसूस कर पाते हैं या नहीं? स्नेह और प्यार का झरना सभी के दिलों में प्रवाहित होता है। क्या हम उन झरनों में सराबोर होने के लिए तैयार हैं जिनके स्त्रोत में सिर्फ मज़हब और ज़ात जैसे पैदाईशी अलगाव हैं लेकिन किसका मीठा जल किसी भी थके राहगीर को बेतहाशा सुकून पहुंचाता है? वो तीन दिन मेरी ‘नॉर्मल’ सी ज़िन्दगी में खासा मायने रखने वाले हैं। ऐसा इसलिए है क्योंकि इन तीन दिनों में मेरी तो बस यही कोशिश रही की भाभीजी के दिल से बहते स्नेह के झरने के मीठे जल से स्वयं को लबालब भर लूँ। दुनिया में आजकल स्नेह के झरने ऐसे ही सूख रहे हैं। शायद मैं इस मामले में आखिरकार भाग्यशाली रहा। खाना तो बस एक बहाना था।

मेरा व्यवहारिक पक्ष हमेशा से कमज़ोर रहा है। किसी भी तरह के तक्कल्लुफ़ से भी मुझे खासा परहेज़ है इसलिए शायद बोल कर शुक्रिया अदा करने जैसा सामान्य व्यवहार भी व्यक्त करना मुझे ठीक तरह से नहीं आता है। ऐसा भी नहीं होता है की मैं भावना-शून्य होता हूँ, लेकिन उसे सामान्य तरह से व्यक्त करना मेरे लिए आसान नहीं होता है। इसलिए मैंने सोचा क्यूँ न अपनी लेखनी के सहारे अपना आभार व्यक्त करूँ। समझ लीजिये इन शब्दों के ज़रिये मैं वही कर रहा हूँ।

-MJ (Jan - 2013)

On Intimacy

The fumble lasted for only a few minutes. I was utterly nervous and in a confused state of mind, yet so subtle that only she could have discerned. She parted her lips and revealed a mischievous smile, an art she deftly and deliberately performed to soothe my fraying nerves. I never asked for it but she always knew that I loved and needed them nonetheless. Then she lifted her jacket on one side and pulled me inside her confines. I lay there snuggling like a child against her strong muscular form. Her gentle perfume seemed to soothe me somewhat. At last, the warmth emanating from her soft warm and slow rhythmic heaving bosom made me feel a little better. The day had been colder than usual and I had almost felt frozen. Miranda had seen me coming out of the library and struggle against the bone chilling cold.

I had been reading a tract on the philosophy of intimacy as a part of my doctoral dissertation. To escape the tyranny of a regular life in a government office (with a fixed salary on the last day of every month), I had enrolled for a doctoral programme at one of the many obscure universities dotting this part of the globe. To add to that, I had been successful in fooling them to grant me a meager amount of scholarship just enough to keep my body and soul together. But I had never factored the terrible cold as a price to pay to lead the chosen life of a vagabond. The summer months had passed without much ado. I was on a reading spree then. I had finished reading the pre-Socratic philosophers and was about to reach the 20th century philosophers. Rains had slowed down my progress as I was wont to go out in the rains more than often. I would catch a cold and would be down with fever for a week or so. But as soon as I was fine and it rained again, I would be out in the rains. And now it was winter. I was barely able to survive the days and nights.

I had seen Miranda on the day of the university seminar on the 20th century philosophers. Her paper on Kant seemed rather appealing to me. I liked her quite positive vision of a human being and its state of affairs. To add to that, I also liked her long pointed nose and the slight lilt in her tone when she would pronounce certain words ending with the letter ‘z’. We met during the lunch break and engaged in a little bit of banter. I wanted to see more of her so I invited her to tea after the seminar got over.

The college café was a nice and cozy place full of all kinds of people. Professors out to get a bite after a tiring lecture, serious types grabbing their share before they rush to the library or the reading room situated nearby and couples sharing their lemonade or cold coffee were the dominant species seen at the café. She was on time. She had gone to her room and after a quick wash and change she was sitting beside me and giving me her famed mischievous smile. To get the conversation going we started with a discussion about the events of the day but it seemed we both wanted to change the topic as well as our chosen place of rendezvous. I suggested we take a walk on the road.

She led me out of the café and we started our first walk together. We talked about all sorts of stuff. She was of Portuguese descent from her father’s side and her mother was a Brazilian. Her birth was a side-effect of Brazil’s colonization by the Portuguese. And she had the features of both of them. Later she showed me their photograph which confirmed my ‘informed’ hunch. Her mother was on the muscular side and looked resplendent in her evening gown with a blue tint on the abdomen region. Her father wore a dinner jacket and held a cigar in his right hand. She wanted to know about India. I was rather confused to talk about my own country in all its supposed glories and tell her all that jazz. I found it easier to tell her my own life stories. I embedded those stories with bits and pieces of India’s geography, history or whatever elements of Indianness appeared in them according to me. To my great surprise and somewhat subdued sense of happiness, it seemed she liked them. Later, our walks became regular at some periods of time and intermittent at other times. We seemed to be in easy company. We did not demand or expect much from each other. It was like a long wave coming over and kissing the shore at a certain point. The wave could choose to come back to the same point or move elsewhere. Similarly we were not bound by any kind of social contract between us. We did not believe much in the prevailing institutions of the society so kept ourselves free from their oppressing definitions and expectations.

The chill had been terrible for the past week. It was double whammy for me now. The cold weather notwithstanding, my deadline for the submission of first draft of the thesis was due in a week’s time and I was nowhere near to completion. Walks with Miranda had been taking a lot of my time. So I had to focus now and finish the work come what may. Armed with a sense of determination and purpose, I had been visiting the library continuously for a week now. Miranda had seen my state of affairs and offered to help me but I had politely declined for I knew she had her own thesis to finish.

Saturday morning was colder than usual but I got off to the library and was working the whole day. At the end of the day I got up to go. I saw Miranda on the library road waving towards me. She had seen me coming out of the library and shivering in that bone chilling cold. We walked together to my room at the hostel. My room was always in perpetual mess. I knew she was a keen advocate of cleanliness and order and would be aghast to see my room. We entered the room silently. She asked me for the keys of my cupboard, opened it and brought out a fresh set of bed sheets and pillow covers. I asked her for tea and she agreed. I put on the kettle and went for a wash.

When I came back, the room looked a little changed and a lot cleaner and in order. She had put on the clean set of bed sheets and pillow covers and folded the blanket. Little embarrassed, I asked her to sit down and make herself comfortable while I myself seemed terribly uncomfortable even after I had put on the heat blower.

We had our tea. We talked for a while. She knew I liked to read stories after the day’s work was over so she suggested we read stories to each other. I readily agreed. She took a book from my shelf and got ready to read out to me.

We lay side by side and covered ourselves with the blanket. My cold feet touched hers and I immediately apologized but she said, “Your feet are so cold. Keep them under mine and you will feel better.” I agreed and kept my feet under her feet. She was beginning to read now. But seeing me still so cold and shivering, she motioned me to snuggle up close to her. I fumbled with the blanket for a while. The fumble lasted for only a few minutes.  I was utterly nervous and in a confused state of mind, yet so subtle that only she could have discerned. She parted her lips and revealed a mischievous smile, an art she deftly and deliberately performed to soothe my fraying nerves. I never asked for it but she always knew that I loved and needed them nonetheless. Then she lifted her jacket on one side, pulled me inside her confines and covered us with the blanket. I lay there, snuggling like a child against her strong muscular form. Her gentle perfume seemed to soothe me somewhat. At last, the warmth emanating from her soft warm bosom made me feel a little better. “Do you feel better now?”, she asked. I just shook my head inside the blanket and brushed against her bosom after which she gave me a little tap on my head.

I was beginning to feel warm and comfortable now. She read me stories and then some extracts from my favourite books and authors. I would go out of the bed, collect four or five books, give them to her and get back at my anointed place close to her bosom. We continued reading and did not feel the passage of time. In between, we also talked and exchanged views on some topics. Towards the end of our reading session, I do not how but I blurted it out. I asked her, “What is the most satisfying way to love? Is it about the physical act of making love or having awareness about it all? She began eloquently, “What do you know about love? You are lying side by side with a girl and still asking about it? Kid, you will need to feel it and not read about it to know it.” And she smiled and kissed me. “And how you feel about that kiss”, she asked. “It was soothing”, I said. “See, the best way to have a kiss or to make love or to express love is to let your whole being, I mean all the cells, tissues and organs of your body and even your metaphysical self be aware of that act in all its totality.” She closed with a kiss again. “And now how do you feel now”?, she asked. “Blissful”. It was the only word that I could speak.

With that small bit of talk we closed our reading for the day. We both were too lazy to move out of that warm bed and find separate places to sleep. And anyway we felt it was not needed. I switched off the reading bulb. She pulled me closer and I snuggled further towards her body. My hands meandered towards her hair slowly and then her back and encircled her complete form lovingly. We kissed in embrace and peace descended upon us. We were asleep after a while.

The Cup

He was probably absorbed in reading some book when suddenly a sharp noise of glass falling on ground brought him back to his immediate surroundings. He sprang up from his seat and walked into the next room. Suhasini, their one and half year daughter was standing by the sill and crying and the broken cup lay on the ground between them. No word could escape his lips. Yes it was no ordinary cup, but a treasure trove of memories for him. Sudha too rushed from outside and was sitting beside her and trying to console the poor baby. On seeing the broken cup she understood his reactions but just smiled. And her smile brought back a flooding wave of memories of days gone by.

Yes, if his memory served him right the day was a Friday because it was supposed to be a holiday the next day. Sudha had promised to see him after the evening lecture. He had been waiting for her for an entire hour and when she finally came he did not know how to start a conversation. He was stammering like a kid who had forgotten to bring his homework to the class. Sudha also did not help matters much by remaining silent on her part. It took some time before they opened up to each other. And then they did not seem to stop and their chit chat continued for almost two hours and they almost gulped down about ten cups of tea between them. And now it was time for the small restaurant to close down.

When they were leaving the restaurant after paying the bill, suddenly a very crazy idea gripped him in no small measure. He wanted to keep that cup forever with himself and remember their first meeting for all times to come. It was a perfectly irrational idea but he rationalized it in no time and asked the owner if he could sell the cup. The owner agreed and he bought the cup. And the cup had remained with him since then and he had developed a strong sense of attachment with the cup.

The cup had become a metaphor for everything nice and beautiful in his life. And now it was lying on the floor broken into pieces. Seeing him flush with emotions, Sudha brought Suhasini closer and planted a sweet kiss on her left cheek and signaled him to come closer to her. He planted a kiss on Suhasini’s right cheek. The cup was gone but Suhasini was there. She was their labour of love. She was their bundle of joy. Then Sudha put her quivering lips on his lips and kissed him. He kissed her back passionately yet tenderly. All three lay in a state of perfect embrace suffused with joy and tranquility. The setting sun and the rising moon in the western sky provided a perfect backdrop to their journey in the ocean of love in this particular act of a long and at times seemingly disingenuous play called life.