Declaration

All the works are of a purely literary nature and are set on the fictional planet of Abracadabra. It has nothing to do with earthly affairs.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Beyond the Last Station

Having departed from
The last station
Here I lie ensconced
In a sea of flowers
Soon to be turned to dust

That wooden bench
On the platform bears
Marks of memories
Entangled, unabated, punctured
Streams of smells and tastes
Struggles against a mélange
Of meanings and meaninglessness

Life seemed voluptuous
And inviting
As succulent breasts of
An unforgotten first love
But it turned out
As a maze
Of mirages
Continuous and abounding
Like intimacy of flesh
Conjoined with smells
And foibles

In a sea abounding with
Hatred and mutations
Meaninglessness and nothingness
Searching for meaning
And love
In nooks and crannies
Crevices and corners
Proved to be a futile expedition
But in true Sisyphean spirit
The search continues
Beyond the Last Station

Friday, July 4, 2014

Searching

He is searching
for meaning
for truth
for love
for salvation

In crevices where 
nothing 
except
nothingness 
exists

But knowing 
it all
he is 
still 
searching

Monday, April 21, 2014

Whispers

When the cacophony of blaring sounds
Have all turned silent
And the friends who danced all night
Have left for their homes

The moonlit night descends again
The lover serenades his beloved
With the music of soft whispers
And touch of roses and kisses

The couple in embrace
Free from the mundane
Seek the metaphysical
In this physical world

Streams of love beget love
With peace all around

Thursday, April 17, 2014

The Last Rites

He carried no malice to the grave.
He left it at the zebra crossing.
It was swift. He collapsed on the zebra crossing and was dead in 39.00 seconds precise. The everyday spectacle of alienation and cannibalism had emaciated him long ago; now only the carcass lay on the road. His contemplation on death lasted for no more than five seconds when he lay gasping for breath. 
Moral decay and subsequent deaths had happened long ago. The process was slow but was always keen on proceeding undetected. The grease and dirt kept on accumulating. Complains, back biting, venom disguised as sweet talk, it was all there. Hypocrites of the highest order. The walking carcasses reeked of bad smell. It had something to do with the atmosphere.
Some hoped that fine suits would prevent their bad odour from spoiling the atmosphere. But they forgot that their moral core had rotten long ago. Apparel oft proclaims the man, but can it hide the fangs of humans turned into beasts who love to devour the flesh of others. Sadism of the highest degree was treated as a virtue. The facts which surprised him the most was that how do the people who share their beds or call them parents are able to survive this filthy stench on a daily basis. I guess their noses are dulled by the daily assaults of putrid smell and no longer notice the foul smell.
He was also surprised at the constituent elements which turned ordinary humans into wild beasts who sadistically took delight in feeding on the flesh of their companions.
He thought that the situation needed an event like plague to occur. Or may be a strong flood. But the magnitude of the disaster must be strong enough to flush all dirt that had been accumulating for a very long time.
So it was a Friday. It was all over. The putrid smell emanating from rotten mangled souls reeking with pus would no longer accompany him. The dead man was free from the smell reeking with filth.
The condolence meeting at abracadabra was scheduled for Monday evening.
Throughout the day, different people talked about different things and displayed different emotions. Who would get the chair? Who will be promoted up the order to fill the vacuum? Who must talk to the relevant people in the management to give him the computer and the seat before someone else does? The files would have to be handed over to a new person. Who will be the unlucky person made to take the extra burden? And there will be curses for the dead man.
The cooperative society people felt relieved. He had paid his part of the contribution last week only. They thought that since no nominee was ever mentioned so they would be able to gobble up that money now through some accounting jugglery.
Some people were frustrated. They were the same set who had earlier used him as a mat. He was the weakest and they left no opportunity of passing their own dirty laundry for a wash by him so that their own hands remained clean.
His roommates were sad and happy. Now they had more space and so could bring their families sometimes so they were happy. But they were worried about the unpaid bills and expenses. Now they would have to share the expenses in two instead of three. They were happy that now they would not be pestered for early dinner but were unhappy that they would have to bring vegetables now.
A friend had cautioned him on being on bad terms with god. He had even shown a message which recounted the fate of people like him who had died unnatural deaths. He had laughed it off as humbug. Now, the friend in one part felt a tinge of sadness but he was also satisfied, rather happy that his prediction or warning had come true in this case as well. I-told-you-so type of gleefulness was visible on his face.
The condolence meeting at abracadabra began at 4 in the evening.
Suddenly in death, he was transformed from a lazy, irresponsible worker into a man of countless virtues. Several people waxed eloquent about shared events which they mistook for memories. After the meeting, they were free to leave. Surreptitiously smiling and feigning grief simultaneously, they left early to join in the cacophony at their homes.
While people got on with their lives and their bile, he was free at last.
And what about the last rites?

Why worry about the last rites of a man who never believed in such humbug? As friends you would want his soul to rest in peace, and then why not let his carcass be a source of some manure. And you know he derided the notion of souls.
He was left in the fields to dissolve into natural elements. In fifty days he had turned into good manure.
Seed, birth, desire, death. 
There was a sweet fragrance near those fields. 



Thursday, January 30, 2014

I shall still love you

I shall still love you
Even when I know the truth
That you are drifting away from me
To a world uninhabited by my presence

I shall still love you
Even when you remove your hands
And leave me alone feeling cold
And vulnerable and with a void in my heart

I shall still love you
Even when I feel the chill settling down on my palms
And waiting for your warm and soft caresses
To glide over and rejuvenate them

I shall still love you
Even when I have learnt from Seneca
Who my friend tells, was Nero’s teacher
And was punished with death

I shall still love you
Even when I envision Seneca living and dying stoically
And with civility in this world
Driven patently by hate and uncivility

I shall still love you
Even when I see ‘Things Fall Apart’
And feel ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’
Or act like ‘The Stranger’ fighting ‘The Plague’

I shall still love you
Even when I have become sure of the fact
That you are just an illusion like everything else
Simply hanging on the mantle-piece of time.

I shall always love you
For you inhabit within me
That small island of love, beauty and truth
And all colours and joys and sorrows of my life and others

Those countless pages you may be
New or smudged or torn or folded on the corners
Smelling musty or sweet or of unrecognizable smells
I shall always love you wherever I find you.

Monday, January 13, 2014

दिया

चौखट पर रखा दिया,
जल रहा है धीरे-धीरे।
शायद तेल की आखिरी बूंद ही बांकी है,
या हवा ने जोर पकड़ ली है।

कुछ घंटो पहले ही,
जब सूरज ढल चुका था।
छोटी बहू ने उसमें तेल भरा था,
फिर जला कर छोड़ दिया चौखट पर।

दिया रोज़ सब कुछ देख रहा है,
वही बेबसी, सिसकियाँ, उबाऊपन।
एक अजीब से बेतुकेपन की चादर,
के अन्दर सिमटे सभी आगंतुक।

कभी-कभी दिया बुझना चाहता है,
लगता है उसके जलने का कोई औचित्य नहीं।
उसका जलना और निकलती रौशनी,
अर्थहीन गहराइयों में बस गोता लगा रहे हैं।

रात का आखिरी पहर ढल रहा है,
हवा से जारी निरंतर संघर्ष।
और तेल की आखिरी बूंद,
लेकिन ऐसा क्यूँ कि बुझने का नाम नहीं।

सहसा उसे निर्वाण प्राप्त हुआ हो,
ऐसा भी नहीं था।
दिये को लगा वह जलेगा तब तक,
उसका कोई भी अंश जीवित रहेगा।

तेल की आखिरी बूंद ख़त्म हुई,
लेकिन उससे जुड़ी बत्ती जलती रही।
आखिर यह भी दिये का ही अंश था,
और उसने ऐसा ही तो चाहा था।

निशा-प्रस्थान और रवि-आगमन,
दोनों की प्रतीक्षा समाप्त हुई।
आकाश के गर्भ से क्षितिज पटल पर,
जन्म लेती पहली किरण का आभास हुआ।

अब दिए ने एक लम्बी सांस ली,
बत्ती का आखिरी अंश भी जल गया।
और एक बार फिर दिया बुझ गया,
शाम को फिर से जलने के लिए।

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

यथार्थ

शायद गहरे विषाद की अनुभूति,
या परस्पर विग्रहों की अनुगूँज।
कोलाहल के बीच फैला सन्नाटा,
या कानों में गूंजती स्पष्ट आवाज़।

विषाद, सूनापन, सन्नाटे
विस्तृत सुख का ही अंश हैं।
इसलिए सुकून ही तो पहुंचाते हैं,
हाँ, इनकी आदत डालनी पड़ सकती है।

शुरू-शुरू में स्वाद थोड़ा अजीब होगा,
इसीलिए जीभ को सिखाना पड़ सकता है।
मस्तिष्क को बताना पड़ सकता है,
कि इसी को यथार्थ कहते हैं।

चिनुआ अचीबी की एक किताब है,
‘चीज़ें बिखरती हैं’।
मिलन कुंदेरा की एक किताब है,
‘सत्व का असहनीय हल्कापन’।

चीज़ें सचमुच बिखरती हैं,
इसीलिए तो धूल, मिट्टी, गर्द
ज़िन्दगी के अभिलक्षण भी हैं
और उसकी परिभाषा भी।

असहनीय हल्केपन का आभास,
चारों ओर फैले भय के मकान। 
परंपरा की पतली जंजीरें,
समाज की खोखली काल-कोठरियां।


आशा की सूखती धाराओं से पटे,
रेगिस्तानों के बावजूद।
नखलिस्तान सरीखे, 
कालखंड की तलाश का प्रयत्न।

जब अँधेरे बंद कमरों के
रोशनदानों से गुज़र कर,
सूरज से निकलती असंख्य किरणें,
पूरे घर को नह्लाएंगीं

मानवता स्वागत करेगी,
एक ऐसे कालखंड का।
जब परस्पर प्रेम ही,
एक-मात्र सत्य होगा।

तब और किसी भी चीज़ का,
कोई मतलब नहीं होगा।