I mixed water with stupidity and guilt and I drank it. It hurts now.

I just did a stupid thing. There’s this whatsapp group which has people. It is meant to be a useful group, just like all whatsapp groups are supposed to be. But it’s just another group where people forward messages in bulk. So this group had some 97 notifications and while checking the messages, I called a girl on whatsapp (I know she was a girl because I read her name). I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. But this stupid phone, technology, network, world, hand did it anyway. I am so full of guilt now. I just want to say sorry while hitting my head against the wall while muttering that it won’t happen again. I am taking it too seriously, I know. But I have tried telling myself that all of it was a stupid mistake. But the guilt and what it means kills me bit by bit. It should’ve not happened. Anything like this in on my mind. Guilt is also here. The worst thing about guilt is that it doesn’t come it itself and reveal itself to the world. It stays inside, getting heavy and heavier by each passing moment. I am writing this because I won’t be able to do anything until I get it outside. And this is my escape route.

Things are complicated right now.
I did something and it turned out bad anyhow,
Since both the ends of thing, that is start,
And the end jumbled themselves and did hurt.
Now I sit alone and try to contemplate,
How this guilt is heavy on soul and sorry is great.
All I now pray is for time to fly,
And things shall get over because till then i shall remain shy.

Afterwards, the girl messaged me asking me why I had messaged her. I wrote a long message stating the reason and apologised for the mistake. But still I have this guilt and fear. The fear that she will misunderstand this stupid gesture as a weird chap trying to stalk her and trying to talk to her.

All of it is stupid. And doesn’t make any sense. I should sleep.


कबाड़ी जिंदा होता तो और खुश होते

आज रविवार है। घड़ी की सुइयां चलते हुए आवाज़ करती है। इनकी टिक-टिक के अलावा, मनीपुर गांव में आज शांति है। Continue reading

सफेद रंग की चीजें अब लाल होती है

सफेद रंग की चीजें अब लाल होती है,
मेरे देस में मरे बाद क्रांति होती है।

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दादी बुंदिया

आज कॉलेज जाने को घर से जल्दी निकला था। रोज-रोज आशीष कहा है, कहा है की रट लगाए फ़ोन करता रहता था। आज उसे ये मौका ना देना था।

“रै बेटा कित जावै है?”

मैं गांव के अड्डे की ओर चला जा रहा था। अचानक पीछे से आवाज़ आयी। आवाज़ दादी बुंदिया की थी।

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What’s A Man?

आदमी क्या है? What is a man?
He is a question asked by himself.
I ask this question occasionally. It is appealing to my mind. It makes me feel like a erudite man.
One couldn’t find answer at home. You can find questions or comforts at home, but the world outside has answers. So i stepped out.

Who am I?
This thing was on my mind. Constantly. It was there when I reached the limit of my village and looked at the road.
The road. It’s always been there. Answers to every journey and destination. Maybe the road can answer my question.
I walk. And I walk a little more. Sweat makes me feel sticky. The wind ain’t blowing and stench of sweat is everywhere. It is in my hands, my hair, my clothes, everywhere. It is in my mind and the things I say. It is in the roadside flowers and overgrown bushes.
I see a tree and decide to sit down. Continue reading

The useless

Call the girl you liked yesterday.
Fine were things and friends,
Maybe misery turned them away.
The streets are alive again.
You see the day in everything you do.
And as you do things,
You wish it’d be better too.
And as it slips through the fingers
You notice the drop of rain
She wouldn’t notice anyways.

Aren’t you the star,
That shone too bright.
But the night was dark
And you fell down and died.
You are your mess
With a hope she wouldn’t clean anyhow.
Forgotten wannabe seeks a saviour,
But it won’t come.
No, never.
Love won’t save us. Or anyone.

मेरे दिनों का पता

तुम्हे मेरे दिनों का पता है,
ये सारे एक उतावलेपन से पीड़ित है।
ये उतावलापन है इनके रोज की दिनचर्या से बच निकलने का।
इस बच निकलने या बचाने के धारावाहिक में कोई प्रेम या अन्य पात्र नही है।
सब कुछ एक परम्परा है इस जवानी की।
कि इस उम्र में जीवन की चल रही हकीकत से हमे छुटकारा चाहिए।
चाहे वो क्षणिक ही क्यों ना हो।
हम उसे पाकर रहेंगे और हम पाए बिना ना रुकेंगे।
ये बच निकलने की प्रवृति अंदर से उपजती है कि रोज के समान्यपन को छलकाया जाए।
पैर इतने जोर से जमीन पर टिकाये जाए की उनका जोश जमीन की स्थिरता को विचलित करे।
इस उम्मीद में कि स्थिरता में जमे हुए कुछ या कोई तो जगेगा ही।
वो आएगा और हमारे साथ खड़ा होगा इस संघर्ष में जोे जिंदगी की रोजमर्रा के खेल के खिलाफ है।
ये खेल जिसे खेलने के लिए हमे बचपन से शिक्षा, दीक्षा, लाड-मार आदि से पढ़ाया गया।
कि जब बचपन निकलेगा और जवानी दस्तक देगी तब हम बचपने के बहकावे में पड़कर कोई गलत कर्म ना करेंगे।
कोई गलत कर्म ना करने पर मेरे दिन जीवन के अंत तक सुख-पूर्ण होंगे।
मेरे दिन, इसी परिणाम को लेकर होने वाले संघर्ष से परेशान है।
कि कल के फ़िक्रे में अभी आज का क्या कुसूर है कि इन्हें गवाया जाए।
कल को बचाने के लिये आज बचाना है।
मेरे दिन इसी में है।