कड़वा मन

अभी-अभी मूवी देखी है। मूवी थी ‘सेफ्टी नॉट गारंटीड।’ मैं खुश था। मित्र का फ़ोन आया। मन खट्टा है।

कॉलेज से नाम काट दिया है। मन में गुस्सा है। बहुत है। पूरे कॉलेज में आखिर इनको मैं ही मिला था। इस प्रकार के विचार उमड़ रहे है। इन सबके बीच एक सत्य है। बड़ा कड़वा है। मैं साल के शुरुआत से अब तक कॉलेज ना गया था, तो नाम कटना लाजमी है।

मैं देखूँ तो पाता हूँ कि किसी को कुछ फर्क ना पड़ा है। खुद के रोग से खुद को ही कष्ट होता है। नीरव मोदी रुपये लेकर उड़ गया। ये कष्ट उसका नही पर देश का है। पर मुझे ना होता है। अभी बस मन कड़वा है। रोग मुझे मालूम है, पर उसकी दवा का ना पता है।

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बातें जो मैं लिखना चाहूँ।

दिन के अंत में, जब सारे वाकये घटित हो चुके होते है, कुछ लिखने को जी करता है। अच्छा, बुरा, इस पर, उस पर, मुझ पर, समाज पर, जिंदगी पर, प्यार पर, उस निरीह लड़की पर जिस पर नजर एक पल के लिए रुकी, सड़क किनारे उस बच्चे पर जो नंगे पाँव वाहनों के शीशे पर थपकी करता है; लिखने को विषय काफी है। पर इन पर लिखना मुझे नापसन्द है। इन पर लिखा फेक लगता है। लगता है की इन पर लिखकर मैं दूसरे जनों से शाबासी या वाहवाही की उम्मीद करता हूँ, जोकि मेरे स्वभाव के विपरीत है। खैर इसे यही खत्म करता हूँ, और थोड़ा आने वाले कल को छेड़ता हूँ।

कल हिस्ट्री का एग्जाम है। दूसरे सेमेस्टर का तीसरा एग्जाम। केवल तीन दिन की छुट्टी मिली थी पढ़न-पाठन हेतु। अब वे आज ख़त्म होती है, तो सोचता हूँ कि कल क्या लिखूंगा आंसर शीट में।

ऐसा कतई नहीं है की मुझे हिस्ट्री पसंद ना है। उलट मुझे हिस्ट्री भाती है। पुराने वक्त में जो घटा, उसको पढ़कर और सोचकर, अच्छा लगता है। पर जब मुझे उस पढ़े हुए पर लिखने को कहा जाता है, तो मुझे पसंद ना आता है। इसका कारण, मेरे मुताबिक, सिर्फ एक है; लिखते वक़्त मैं रुक जाता हूँ।

सड़क किनारे ग्रीन बेल्ट में बैठा हूँ। वाहनों की आवाजाही कम है, तो शोर भी कम है। पेड़ो से पंछियों की आवाज आती है। दिन भर तपने के बाद और पैर जलाने के बाद, अभी शाम को जमीन नंगे पर को सुहाती है। नमी है। अँधेरा हो चला है। स्ट्रीट लाइट्स जल चुकी है। घर जाने का समय होता है। जाएंगे, पर घर जाकर भी कल के एग्जाम की चिंता कम ना होगी।

The pictures of me

The pictures of me
Which you have in mind
They are wrong
Completely irrelevant

It’s not that i care
What you think of me
Or that i want to be
Admired by the likes of you
Although your company, maybe

Justification for things i did
I’d give you none
I did nothing wrong
Then you’d say
If you did nothing wrong
Then why are trying so hard to prove it to me
The thing is
Thoughts of me getting wrongly judged by people
They bear burden of this soul of mine
They make me desperate and a wannabe
Then i try to act like i want myself to be
What people should think of me
Kind, helpful, always forgiving and whatnot
And over time
It suffocates my existence.

You’d wonderr
How much power i give other over me
None, i’d say
It’s a game
A battle
Me vs. Me
The one who is always right
The another one who is always wrong
But right or wrong
It sounds same inside my head
And it confuses me

A Good Day

I have just woken up from a deep slumber. Something shook me. It is like, there is a burden on my conscience I can’t get rid of easily.  Writing, maybe, will help me here.

The Day
Today was a simple day. I woke up, got dressed and reach College. The traffic was less than usual. The roads were less occupied.

I reached College and started going after teachers for signatures. I needed them for my important work. I agree being a little selfish asking them for it. Two months have happened since I took their lectures.

While I was there, a friend asked me for help. The help was making lists. College was hosting an Inter-College debate competition. And as soon as I knew it, I was writing down names of students who were in it.

I have always loved competitions. I love helping people. And I love receiving appreciation for it. The funny thing is, no one appreciated me or anything. No one. Nada. For everyone I met today, save for one person, everyone took me for granted. I felt the amount of work done in organising an event. I felt what those people go through. People come and go. All without taking a second to thank a nameless and faceless person who arranged their seat or offered them water.

The online and offline dilemma
I wrote down names. Names of students from neighbouring college and my College. And there were names I remembered. I remembered them because they were interesting people. People whom I wanted to talk with. Now it’s a different matter all of them were girls.

I am here to generalise my fellow young fellas.
Life, in its monotone, is boring. It is people who make it worth living. And there are times when you are engrossed with a person that you want more of them. But we walk around with a shyness so great that we are simply unable to go upto them and ask for it. Now it is different if we gets turn down, but the gist is that we strived for what we wanted. Now we’ve taken shyness into picture, it is essential to include the fact that I also lack the courage to talk to a girl.

I didn’t talk to them. But I remembered their names. I reached home and searched them on facebook. And when I visited their profile, it was starkly opposite to my expectiations.

Today, there was this girl who was headstrong and confident. It was evident in the way she talked and spoke during the debate. She was beautiful too, breathtakingly beautiful. It was like she personified beauty. Hair tied in a ponytail and the occasional giggles. The eyes behind the specs. The aura she had. Truth be told, I am unable to explain how beautiful a girl is.

So when I visited her profile, there were pictures which had inspirational quotes. Inspirational quotes for a girl to remember she’s beautiful the way she is. It felt like she was doubtful about herself. There wasn’t one, but multiple of the same kind. It was aweful, seeing someone doubt their wonderful individuality. Society, what have you done.

Now let’s tackle the question that why do I stress so much on what a person has put up on their facebook.
Facebook is like a commodity for today. It is amazing too. It offers one the independence to say what he wants to say without any sort of fear of getting judged by people for it.

Now what I want to say is, social media is a platform for our thoughts. It has become a medium for us to express ourselves. So naturally, our facebook profile is an extension of our existence and what we post is things we want to say or tell people. Or rather taken as.

If thoughts above sound stupid to you, then please tell me.

A bit about stalking
Above here I have talked about looking up a girl’s facebook profile. And honestly it sounds a lot like stalking.

The thing with me is, a talk with an interesting person makes my day rather than seeing them. And real life doesn’t always align itself to my expectations. So while looking up them online, what I merely want is a glimpse of the goodness they are and what they are like.

Work be of any kind, it is the intentions with which they are done which makes them good or bad. And here, I cross my heart and (figuratively) I am ready to walk through burning pyre if it helps me in conveying that my intentions were good.

A good thing
The debate was good. The result was a mess.

Now there was this girl from Govt. College sector 14. She was enchanting and when she spoke, one was forced to pay attention. Such powerful her public speaking was.

When the debate was done and they were ready to go home, I walked up to her and said that she did good today. She thanked me. Perhaps she knew how awesome she was and was just being modest about it. Anyways, she made my day better. Count the little blessings they say. Her thank you was the best little thing today.

Now I am shy around girls and I still wonder how I talked to her. But for the moment, I am just glad that I talked.

Bruised ego and its after-effects

See. There is a man who has got problems with everything and everyone. He has got problems with himself too. He has problem with the way he lives and thinks. He has problem with the people who he refers to as family or friends. He has problem when something is done to him like a prank. He has problem when his ego is bruised. He has problem when he feels impotent and helpless. Problem is the sole thing he has. Solutions don’t matter, problems do. It seems like his existence is limited to the concept of problems.

I think I can write something resembling to poem now.

I take a breath
Slowly and without making any sound
Silence can be felt
The movement of clock is audible
Outside, the world is functioning
People, most of them, seems to be sleeping
Why can’t I be one of them.
The moonlight seeps from the cracks
It has got a playful silvery sheen
The moonlight has been here since time immemorial
Then why it is tonight I notice it
How profoundly it covers everything it comes across
It binds itself to everything
And blends them with itself
Giving them its silver shade
Even to the darkness it does so.
Cold wind blows in the distant
And makes this body shiver
Mind is so careless to notice
How hollow the body feels
I wish i could talk to the moonlight
Welcome him into my innermost thoughts
Bad, good, sad, gloomy, happy
And every shade they have
I wish moonlight to come
And make my thoughts alike it
Blending them with the same shade
So that sad is happy and happy ks gloomy
And it becomes difficult to differentiate between them
And pointless then it will be think about useless things
And maybe it will make the day better and life bearable.

Happenings

These are random things. They come to me often and I have no clue what to do with them. So I write them here.

The Online Rating
I am an avid user of facebook. I don’t use it to connect with people. I use it to ignore people when I am in the open. What I do there? Mostly I flip through people’s pictures, look at some pictures and gawk at beautiful girls. And i rate them out of 10, in my mind. This is a stupid practice. Who am I to rate and judge them? I don’t have much to berate myself. I am an idiot in my daily practices.

Pictures on display are made up of pixels. RGB. Colors. They make everything I see on screen. Then how come a girl appears exquisite. Loneliness, look at what you’ve made me do.

The Ghosts of Yesteryears
Today, in College, I stood at the chowk. I looked at people, busy in their business. The girls were pretty though, I admit. Now, a friend comes up and informs me she is there. On hearing this, I ran. I ran till I reached the gate. There, I took a breath and composed myself.
Now, after five hours, I still can’t grasp what made me run from there. Was it her? Was it the unfulfilled expectations? Or was it just that I was bored. I don’t know exactly.