tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65218602024-03-06T23:38:51.639-08:00Madhukar's Musings<b><i>Just a space for my general musings, observations, and take on everything in general, and nothing in particular...</i></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-30534741569416521032022-12-02T06:26:00.000-08:002022-12-02T06:26:28.262-08:00An Encounter with Death<p><b> <i>(among the scraps which I have carried over</i> <i>through the transition to "the new life", there was this vestige from "the old life" - something which I had written when I was just about 26yr old, on May 6th, 1981, to be precise)</i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">When I returned from the
office, the postcard with a torn corner was lying on the floor.<i> "It is
with deep sorrow that we inform you of the sad and untimely demise of Mr
Ashutosh Kumar…"</i> it read in an impersonal bureaucratic tone. As if the
message deliberately aimed as dissociating any personal meaning from the words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I sat down, numb and
uncertain. When you are middle-aged and an old friend dies, the feelings are
mixed and confused. Emotions rushed forth within me and tripped over each
other. A sense of triumph for having outlived him, a feeling of guilt for
feeling so, for being alive while he was dead, a sense of despair, of time and
life slipping away from between the fingers, of one's own mortality - all these
combined and prepared a curious blend of crooked emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Ashutosh was an old friend
since the hide-and-seek and marble days. We had grown up together and learned
the strategies of living through common experience. Though time and adulthood had
drifted us away into different compartments of life, the bond of a common past
had somehow lingered through occasional new year and birthday cards. And now he
was dead and it felt unreal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Death makes so many things
unreal. There were so many irrelevant, yet magically significant experiences
Ashutosh and I had shared with each other. Somehow, this commonality of our
memories made me feel my past as more real, more concrete, more secure. As if I
found a comforting validation of my life in his memories. But now, those
memories were gone, irrevocably lost, with Ashutosh, and along with them, the
objectivity they rendered to my past. My memories could well have been my
autistic fantasies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Mechanically, I got up,
mixed myself a drink and lit a cigarette. I was awed by the change in the
meaning of death over time. When my father had died, and that was nearly twenty
years back, I had accepted his death as natural, as the logical conclusion of a
life lived. I had acted like a realist, had accepting the inevitable, and had
efficiently managed the rituals of his last rites, the bank account, policies
and the certificate. I had felt myself grown up and his death had been my
passing test into the adult world and maturity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">But now Ashutosh was dead and
what I felt was an empty hole in my life-space. Death, after all, I reflected,
is not the conclusion of life. It dogs through the every step of life and takes
one by surprise. It had struck me now, but I will go on living. A little less,
perhaps, for a portion of my life was dead with Ashutosh. Perhaps, that is why
we mourn death, because a part of us dies with others - just as it had lived
with others. I wondered if life - my life - was only a summation of its pieces
that lived and would die with others…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">My eyes looked through the windows.
The sun had gone down and sky looked gray and dusky. In a few moments it would
be dark. I looked toward the approaching night and tried to accept its
inevitability…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-indent: .3in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; text-align: center;">****<o:p></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-91304152165266876812022-05-25T10:37:00.001-07:002022-05-25T10:37:45.818-07:00of thresholds and passing of a season...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrk7zk-DYUu0T74i1lud1H5RDFB5McDsdfoPPC-Du0tqwy-aDjIk-AEexQulDowSn-5dqVZFzgflJw-7LeQLLjcmhCm4SaBTaqUWXf8w9Wu_UKXxq6Ld9OZVuaOlUpfhfB9BEq8ISQ3Y55mpJ5iy2TBwC7ying8-NJDijS9jb2IhznaC9pA/s800/smiling%20prof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="800" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrk7zk-DYUu0T74i1lud1H5RDFB5McDsdfoPPC-Du0tqwy-aDjIk-AEexQulDowSn-5dqVZFzgflJw-7LeQLLjcmhCm4SaBTaqUWXf8w9Wu_UKXxq6Ld9OZVuaOlUpfhfB9BEq8ISQ3Y55mpJ5iy2TBwC7ying8-NJDijS9jb2IhznaC9pA/w640-h369/smiling%20prof.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Last 3 decades or so, this was the time of the year when I
used to be finalizing course schedule, readings, making session plans and note,
etc…. and in more recent years, also posting pics such as these on FB to curse
the students to spoil my idyllic life and to warn them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This year too, the session is starting mid-June. But I had my last class @ XL on
Dec 17<sup>th</sup>, ’21, and so this year there is nothing to post (except
this) … and now it is sort of sinking in that this 30yr old seasonal cycle is coming
to an end<br />
(I am still with XL till end of June when <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>hang the boots)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">…mixed feelings</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-28072126334378427712022-05-05T09:07:00.013-07:002022-05-05T09:59:39.037-07:00an eventful day, 44yrs back.... when a journey began<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUg5wtmHZU2c796si8ut9-LmnnpMM1N7HqnUXMjSsarBYrlKfBtlTQszI6SRcSeKWlwig-sAxdRItsnIn7Hau5Cf06kMmtE50U85JwHnfYyI-3EWfp5sypwRuK2vA7Dol0ZpXGpQ2xohXMsHF_gN1r8tfLZd-A6zALyprgCehmeyMKGIE7jQ/s1139/hum%20do%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="1139" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUg5wtmHZU2c796si8ut9-LmnnpMM1N7HqnUXMjSsarBYrlKfBtlTQszI6SRcSeKWlwig-sAxdRItsnIn7Hau5Cf06kMmtE50U85JwHnfYyI-3EWfp5sypwRuK2vA7Dol0ZpXGpQ2xohXMsHF_gN1r8tfLZd-A6zALyprgCehmeyMKGIE7jQ/w400-h297/hum%20do%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><b> 44years back, it was an eventful day…. Excerpts from the
diary:</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
--<br />On the5th, everything worked out according to the plan....I went for a walk and saw Geeta's rickshaw on Mandir Marg - that was the last hurdle...</p><p class="MsoNormal">...Papa had left for office, and only my brother, bhabhi and Amma are at home. I called Amma and asked her to sit down. "कुछ बताना है"</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">तुम जब ये कहते हो
तो घबराहट होती है”, </span>she joked, “you say quite serious things in a casual
tone<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>like you may say that you and
Geeta are going to get married.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That is exactly what I am going to tell you”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>“Where?” Amma was suddenly serious.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That doesn’t matter. I am leaving and we are getting
married.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">.....Her initial reaction was “<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ये ना करो”. </span>But
I explained…. Once the point was driven home, Amma accepted. She asked me to
wait, went to her almarah, took out and gave me an <span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">अंगूठी” and </span>‘<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">सिन्दूर’</span> (which we didn’t use<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">d</span>) for Geeta. I then told them the venue
of the marriage, invited them, gave a note for Papa, and left…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">---<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My parents/ family could make it to the venue – as did many of our IITK friends… Geeta's parents could not, which now I feel was such a loss - but Uncle had already gone to work and finding a taxi between Lucknow and Kanpur on a short notice was not so easy during those days<br />...but so a journey began...<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihp1wAm5il_YaCg5AzPACxG3IAIhtsApaGNU3SlpOt0moTfEW-zJOqKh04U76FqdsdswLRf6yjTVFhgk9lXbHzjVrBSs8oVQK9zGnKZEu4NP0lXwOrrl5KG6b3c-a7KsOholuzZjSKRpw_5XPzsAcv43cnZOhck6p7RmNU8RMGxLdkmJ389w/s1024/shaadi.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="1024" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihp1wAm5il_YaCg5AzPACxG3IAIhtsApaGNU3SlpOt0moTfEW-zJOqKh04U76FqdsdswLRf6yjTVFhgk9lXbHzjVrBSs8oVQK9zGnKZEu4NP0lXwOrrl5KG6b3c-a7KsOholuzZjSKRpw_5XPzsAcv43cnZOhck6p7RmNU8RMGxLdkmJ389w/w400-h285/shaadi.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIovgatzCd9IJ9gHtVLhqLZKjIIQXkvInmISmAtTZF51ZnvLaX9pBapsBV-8z6oUI6hWK8hDu0C65aK-hkhkZWcI7tNE-s3dAPLjcW_vA9C1dkaqH6Xj1W7seMtGYDiV6VOPKUNwIUuzBO2Co8Wi898Ww2QCxkzEcrmUuj0J24RtEuC1MKAA/s1024/diary%20-%20we%20got%20married%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="1024" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIovgatzCd9IJ9gHtVLhqLZKjIIQXkvInmISmAtTZF51ZnvLaX9pBapsBV-8z6oUI6hWK8hDu0C65aK-hkhkZWcI7tNE-s3dAPLjcW_vA9C1dkaqH6Xj1W7seMtGYDiV6VOPKUNwIUuzBO2Co8Wi898Ww2QCxkzEcrmUuj0J24RtEuC1MKAA/s320/diary%20-%20we%20got%20married%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>This was our "status update" that night</b></div><br />PS: looking back, we were such 22-23yr old kids then, but it worked out fine till it lasted...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-10976547162876813352022-01-04T07:38:00.000-08:002022-01-04T07:38:23.388-08:00<b>नहीं, ये रात अँधेरी तो नहीं है इतनी...</b><p>
इसमें सूरज भी पिघल जाता है पानी कि तरह<br>
चाँद भी ढल के दुबक जाता है धीरे धीर <br>
दूर हो जाते हैं, खो देते हैं कुछ अपनों को <br>
<b>मगर, ये रात अँधेरी तो नहीं है इतनी...</b><p>
इसकी कालिख में छुपे रहते हैं अब भी तारे <br>
काली चादर के उधड़ते हुए किनारों में<br>
टिमकते रहते हैं; रोशनी कम है मगर बाकी है <br>
<b>अभी, ये रात अँधेरी तो नहीं है इतनी...</b><p>
जुगनुओं की चमक अभी भी बाकी है<br>
भोर होगी, सुबह अभी भी बाकी है...<br>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-9692315925196814442021-09-24T09:56:00.000-07:002021-09-24T09:56:04.120-07:00एक चित्रकार की मौत - Death of an Artist<p> <span style="font-family: arial;">In my mid-late teens, I wanted to be an author (as many of us do), and used to write stories. Many of those scribbling are still with me in the old notebooks. Looking at the notebook, I think this was written around '70-'72.<br />----<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DoZ_1zCwE9g/YU4A7ntwCTI/AAAAAAAAWSg/4RmaOU5TtPU_AxkPdxwzm0Oc1gqVBJ2YgCLcBGAsYHQ/s872/wanderer%2Bbw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="639" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DoZ_1zCwE9g/YU4A7ntwCTI/AAAAAAAAWSg/4RmaOU5TtPU_AxkPdxwzm0Oc1gqVBJ2YgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/wanderer%2Bbw.jpg" width="234" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">उसने तूलिका रखी और
दोबारा कैनवास को देखा|</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">अधूरी! अभी भी
अधूरी| कुछ कमी है, पर क्या? वो समझ नहीं पा रहा था|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">एक बार फिर उसने
अपनी कृति को तराशा| थोड़ी झुकी हुयी पलकें, खोये से नयन, छोटे अधर, उड़ते से रेशमी
बाल... थोड़े में कहें तो वो कैनवास पर रंगों से लिखी हुई एक कविता थी| लेकिन अपने
कवि के लिए अभी भी अधूरी! उसे अपनी रचना से संतुष्टि नहीं हो रही थी – स्वाभाविक
भी है| ईश्वर भी तो मानव से असंतुष्ट ही रहता है; इसीलिए तो उसे बनाता है, मिटाता
है और फिर से नए रूप देता है|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">स्टूडियो की खिड़की
से बाहर दूर क्षितिज पर घुलते सूरज का अंतिम लय चित्रकार की कल्पना के गीतों में
समाता जा रहा था| अपनी आराम कुर्सी पर लेटे हुए वो उसी गीत में</span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">डूबता जा रहा था – और उसके सामने कैनवास में </span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">बंद उसका अपना गीत अपने रचनाकार में घुल जाने के
लिये अपनी बेड़ियाँ काटने के प्रयत्न कर रहा था|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">ख़ामोशी के शब्द नहीं
होते लेकिन वो अपने आप में एक कविता होती है| उसमे ध्वनि नहीं होती लेकिन वो स्वयं
एक स्वर-स्तोत्र होती है| ऐसी ही ख़ामोशी स्टूडियो में एक खेल रचा रही थी| अँधियारा
बढ़ता जा रहा था... ये भी ख़ामोशी की तरह ही होता है| यदि देख सकें तो इसमें भी एक रंगीन
संसार होता है; अगर नहीं, तो एक मात्र काली </span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">चादर जिसमें हम स्वयं को खो देते हैं|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">कितनी स्थिरता!!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">चित्रकार को भी आज
इसका अहसास हुआ था – पहली बार| उसके संसार में आज एक नया रंग था – एक ऐसा रंग जिसे
उसकी तूलिका ने पहले कभी नहीं छुआ था|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">उसके लिए यथार्थ और कल्पना
जगत एक ही थे| जीवन उसके लिए एक स्वप्न मात्र था, उसके स्वप्न ही उसका जीवन थे| और
आज जब इस नई अनुभूति में उसने अपने को ढूंढना चाहा तो वो ये भी नहीं समझ पा रहा था
कि ये स्वप्न है या यथार्थ|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">अनोखा जगत था| न
अंधकार था, न ही कोई रौशनी; न स्वर थे और न ही स्तब्धता – सब कुछ होते हुए भी नहीं
था| यदि थी तो स्थिरता! कर्कश, पैनी स्थिरता – लेकिन मृदु और मधुर भी| एक शांत
स्थिरता...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“सुनो!”, उसने मुड़
कर देखा|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">उसकी कल्पना उसके
सामने थी| कैनवास के बंधन टूट गए थे, और उसमें छिपी हुई सजीविता स्पष्ट हो आई थी|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“क्या मैं अपूर्ण
हूँ?” उसका स्वर करुण था|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">चित्रकार ने उसे
तराशा, “हाँ, शायद|”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">फिर से ख़ामोशी – वही
स्थिरता!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">चित्रकार समझ नहीं
पा रहा था| उसके सामने उसकी कृति पूर्ण खड़ी थी, लेकिन उसके मन की आखें उसे अपूर्ण
बता रही थीं| उसके अधर फिर हिले, “नहीं! तुम अभी भी अपूर्ण हो|”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“क्यों?” कविता सिहर
उठी|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“क्यों कि...”
चित्रकार रुक गया, “... क्यों कि तुम केवल एक कल्पना हो|”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">सरगम के स्वर गूँज
उठे, “और तुम?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">वो स्तब्ध था| इतना
बड़ा प्रश्न, “मैं क्या हूँ?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">एक ही उत्तर था –
केवल एक कल्पना, एक कोरी अधूरी कल्पना!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">कितना बड़ा व्यंग,
कितनी बड़ी विडंबना! कर्ता स्वयं एक कृति था, अधूरी|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">कल्पना विहंस उठी,
“जब हम दोनों ही अपूर्ण कल्पना हैं, तो तुम्हारा मुझ पर क्या अधिकार? तुमने मुझ पर
बंधन डाल रखे हैं, और शायद केवल मेरे अधूरेपन के कारण मुझे मिटा भी दोगे| लेकिन
क्या तुम स्वयं एक अपूर्ण कल्पना नहीं हो?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“हाँ... मैं भी
अपूर्ण हूँ,” चित्रकार को अपनी लघुता का अहसास हो रहा था, “लेकिन – लेकिन, मैं कर ही
क्या सकता हूँ?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">कल्पना की आँखों में
प्रेम की सुरुभि थी| वो चित्रकार को देख रही थी जैसे माँ अपने शिशु को देख रही हो,
जैसे प्रेयसी अपने प्रेमी को देखती हो, “हमारा बंधन ही हमारी अपूर्णता है, हमारा अधूरापन
है| आओ हम दोनों मुक्त हो जाएँ, पूर्ण हो जाएँ...”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="HI" style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">चित्रकार एक मासूम बच्चे की तरह उसके नयनों में अपने आप को निहार रहा था| कविता ने
अपना हाथ बढ़ाया, और अनजाने ही उसने अपना हाथ उसके हाथों में दे दिया|</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="HI" style="font-family: Mangal, serif;">----</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">सुबह के सूरज की पहली
किरण स्टूडियो में तैरने लगी थी| बंधन टूट गए थे| चित्रकार का हाथ अपने हाथ में लिए,
उसकी कल्पना आराम कुर्सी पर पड़े उसके निढाल, मृत शरीर को निहार रही थी| दोनों की छायाएं
स्टैंड पर लगे सादे कैनवस मिल कर एक हो गयीं थीं|</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif; font-size: large;">...जैसे दो कल्पनाएँ
मिल गयीं हों – दोनों मुक्त थीं, दोनों सम्पूर्ण थीं, दोनों एक थीं|</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif; font-size: 10pt;">***</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-17473651555705815062021-09-04T09:54:00.036-07:002021-09-04T11:04:48.564-07:00My 3 Learning from the Old Man<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRx-lvgiCZTqnTsd-gae_8YfT08vZKVV5p1vaqY0OK-AnfpqcA8q84QefMSB3LuB8iyYuqfhhgLaqhDXZzmlhMdgC43qqBD3ItDalAxuf8vO_PdNEGCYttricrDWcF2cix0Iviw/s800/000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="800" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRx-lvgiCZTqnTsd-gae_8YfT08vZKVV5p1vaqY0OK-AnfpqcA8q84QefMSB3LuB8iyYuqfhhgLaqhDXZzmlhMdgC43qqBD3ItDalAxuf8vO_PdNEGCYttricrDWcF2cix0Iviw/w528-h257/000.jpg" width="528" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Some years back, I had taken this screenshot from an article written by my grandfather, Pt. Ram Chandra Shukla, from a link in Google Books which I can't find now - It was published in an issue of The Theosophist </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">He, "Babuji" to us, was a Hindi teacher/ scholar and shared his name with the famous Hindi
poet (in fact, one of his poems was attributed to the poet). </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">He started his teaching career as the personal tutor for JK Singhanias, which he left due to ideological/ego issues... perhaps this ran in the family during that time, since my dad had started his career as the personal physician of Gujar Mal Modi in 40s in Modi Nagar in West UP, the founder of </span><a href="http://modi.com/index.html" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">Modi Enterprises</a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;"> and had quit overnight due to similar issues (he found that one of his allowances was deducted since he had sent the aspirin tablet fever/ headache through the orderly and had not gone personally to administer it).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">At some point in his early life, Pt Ram Chandra Shukla came in touch with Annie Besant, got inspired/ influenced by her and joined the Theosophical Society... and later became the the Principal of the Besant Theosophical School, Kamaccha (Varanasi). Theosophy and the Society remained an internal and external anchors for him through out his life. I remember Radha Burnier, who at that time was the General Secretary of the Theosophical Society coming home to meet him in Lucknow...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">I came to know him as person </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">later in his life when I was growing up as a kid and a teen during the 60s till
mid-70s. My grandmother, Kamla Devi, had expired in '63, and he came to live with us as my dad (who had joined the UP Medical and Health Services) got posted across Bulandshahr, Faizabad, Shahjahanpur and then in Lucknow.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">By late 60s, when he was 80yrs old, he had lost his eyesight. There couldn't have been a bigger misfortune for a person whose life revolved around, and connected to the world through, books and printed words. But he picked up the threads, and to fill up the gap in some ways, I became his "personal secretary". <br /><br />Looking back, that "personal secretary-ship" during those 8-9years during my teens, was also a sort of <i>apprenticeship-to-life</i> for me. <br /><br />I used to </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">read and write his letters (and he would receive many during a week), which kept him connected with people and the world. I would also read books/ novels to him; By then he had developed a taste for Perry Mason and PG Wodehouse - besides the writings of Annie Besant, Helana Blavatsky and many others... that <b><i>there is a space and diversity, ranging from the mundane to the sublime, in the entirety of a life to be lived</i> </b>was the first learning which I owe to him.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;">The other medium which kept him connected
with life was his "transistor radio" through which he learned new
things, and would talk about them... As a teenager, I learned some agriculture, the complicated scoring of
10-30-40 scoring of Wimbledon, different shots and placing of cricket (short-cut,
mid-off, gully, google, etc.) from a blind person in his 80s who had ‘seen’ but
never seen these things.... that was another learning -<i> <b>learning how to re-learn, change gears during the ups-and-downs of the life's sojourn</b></i> - which I inadvertently picked from him.<br /><br />I still remember that at some point in time in Jan-Feb ;'76, for some reasons, there were no letters for him. He would enquire and I had to tell him 'no, none today'. One day I asked him if he would like to dictate any letters and he said something like (not exactly these words, but this was the gist) "I think people have there own lives to live, I have lived mine. It is time to go". There was no sadness, rancour, resentfulness when he said that...it was like "this is it". <br /><br />After that day, he sort of withdrew into himself, declined my attempts/ offers to read books or write letters and his health also started deteriorating.... He departed on April 2nd '76.</span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: arial;">That was the last, and most precious subliminal learning for me: <i><b>when it is over, it is over - there is time to go, gracefully - and to let go...</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><u>PS</u></b>: I have one regret, though. <br />During his last days, during our MA days, Geeta would often come to our house in Mahanagar, Lucknow. Once when she was there, "Babu ji" called me for something, and I told him that I will come later since I have a "friend"... it just didn't occur to me that I could have introduced her to him - I should have. Some years later when we were married, Geeta told me she would have loved to meet him and that perhaps I did not want to introduce her... I should/ could have done that, and that would have been wonderful!! - but that moment/ opportunity just went away - dumbo me!<br />... '<i>life happens and</i> <i>perfect closures don't happen in life'</i> was my last learning</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-59319580918018875542020-09-05T09:21:00.004-07:002020-09-05T09:30:51.866-07:00Muddling through the question: "What is your "Teaching Philosophy?""<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfKaFNXjTQ4/X1O6nIZhG3I/AAAAAAAAVqE/9jrNutax1iUsjO9_6hUxwro8J44c96yVACLcBGAsYHQ/s945/river.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="945" height="156" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfKaFNXjTQ4/X1O6nIZhG3I/AAAAAAAAVqE/9jrNutax1iUsjO9_6hUxwro8J44c96yVACLcBGAsYHQ/w500-h156/river.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br />Somehow, this question: “<b>What is you Teaching Philosophy?</b>” does not feature in the educational institutions – in the recruitment interviews for teachers, in the conversations among colleagues, in one’s introduction with the students….
<br /><br />And it is also not a question, to which one can come up with a ready-made answer.<br /><br />Actually, it is an unfair question, since one doesn't start with any such "philosophy".... One learns, realizes, develops and internalizes what this whole business of “teaching” is all about, as one grapples through it - the classes, courses, and individual lives and their contexts - and makes sense of it for oneself.<br /><br />Nevertheless, this is a question worth asking oneself - or so I felt!... The answer(s) kept on changing, evolving, taking shape/ making sense... At the fag-end of my teaching career (I retired last week), I think I have been able to make some sense of what I have been doing since last 3-4 decades – captured and expressed by people who have tread this path earlier... so here goes<br /><br />"In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn."<br /><b>- Phil Collins</b> <div>*
<br />"A very great musician came and stayed in our house. He made one big mistake… (he was) determined to teach me music, and consequently no learning took place. Nevertheless, I did casually pick up from him a certain amount of stolen knowledge."<br /><b>- Rabindranath Tagore
</b><br />*
<br />"A good teacher, like a good entertainer first must hold his audience’s attention; then he can teach his lesson."<br /><b>- John Henrik Clarke
</b><br />*
<br />"Anyone who tries to make a distinction between education and entertainment doesn’t know the first thing about either."<br /><b>- Marshall McLuhan
</b><br />*
<br />"Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths pure theatre."<br /><b>- Gail Godwin
</b><br />*
<br />"Good stories surprise us. They make us think and feel. They stick in our minds and help us remember ideas and concepts in a way that a PowerPoint crammed with bar graphs never can."<br /><b>- Joe Lazauskas and Shane Snow
</b><br />*
<br />"You know, Adolph, I have now reached the age where I know that being remembered for books and theories is not enough. One does not make a difference unless it is a difference in the lives of people. "<br /><b>- Joseph Schumpeter
</b><br /><br /> Amen…
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-87107697747683701372015-10-27T10:02:00.001-07:002015-10-27T10:02:30.428-07:00...तो अच्छा होता<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">जब कभी दहलीज पर खड़ा होता </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">या कोई वाकिया गुज़रता है</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">तब कभी ये ख्याल आता है </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">साथ होते तो अच्छा होता....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">अगर होते तो अच्छा होता,</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">नहीं हो तो भी अच्छा ही है,</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक पतवार से भी नाव चलती है </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">दूसरी होती तो अच्छा होता...</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-80404787601764301002014-07-16T07:42:00.000-07:002014-07-16T07:42:21.480-07:00Unfinished Tales -1 (A Fruitless Existence)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
(<em>written sometime during 1980-82, Bhopal)</em><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">On Saturdays, the office gets over after lunch.
Today is Saturday, and there is still almost half a day left before I can hit
the soft oblivion of the bed. I dread these afternoons for their unstructured-ness.
Sundays are somewhat more tolerable; I can always find a list of things to do
to keep myself busy and useful, like washing clothes, stitching buttons,
rearranging my room (and how many arrangements can you make out of a bed, two
chairs, a table and an iron trunk), shopping for the necessities. But Saturday
afternoons are different and dull. They place me with a large chunk of time at
my disposal, and I am forced to take a decision about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I am one of the senior clerks in the office. If you
go by my personnel file, I have twenty years of experience working this
organization. The way I look at it is that I have one month of experience,
which I have repeated two hundred and forty times. Two hundred and thirty eight
to be exact. It is like the myth of Eternal Recurrence: every week I spend five
and a half days in the office, and fumble around with the remaining one and a
half. For the last two decades, this pattern has remained much the same, except
for a few times when I had fallen ill, and once when I had gone to my native
village to cremate my dead mother, the last of my roots. Of course, there have
been changes. Nowadays, there are better photocopying machines, more educated
peons, more frustrated bosses, more indifferent colleagues, and more arrogant
customers. Over the years, the prices and disillusionment have increased, and
contentment and intimacy have gone down. But these are only minor fluctuations
in the looming background of my personal anonymity, which has remained perennial
like some cosmic principle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I loiter towards the Coffee House. A piece of
sunlight is leaning against its door, ogling at the pedestrians like some
street-side loafer. I push the door, and it falls flat on the carpeted floor. I
enter, trampling over it, triumphant and privately delighted about my
delinquency. Inside, it is dark, and a soft ubiquitous murmur pervades the
room. I grope my way to a corner table, gradually getting accustomed to the
darkness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The room is littered with countless human islands,
each characterized by its peculiar fauna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are islands of the literary people, engaged in their private
battle of words and wits; of the city-bred intellectuals, gauging the trend of
the contemporary world; of the disillusioned unemployed, struggling with their
common sense of futility; of the young college-goers, enthusiastic about their
frivolous exploits; of the young lovers, wooing each other in soft murmured
tones. Beneath this heterogeneity of motives and directions, I feel there is a
common striving for one's life and future. Probably, that is why I find this
place so comforting, its involvement with life so very consoling. If so many
people can be serious about it, then, apparently there must be something more
to life than a series of ineffectual events bounded within the paradigm of
periodicity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The waiter passes by my table three times, feigning
a busy indifference to my presence. I feel an affinity towards him and his
indulgence in his contrived sense of purpose and importance. Since I am in no
hurry, I abandon my fruitless efforts to attract his attention, and start
scanning the room once again…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As usual, my eyes move towards the table at the far
end of the room, just next to the window with the glazed brown glass. I realize
that it has been so many years since I have sat there…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-44463297153678796912014-03-18T10:45:00.000-07:002014-03-18T11:19:19.950-07:00उम्र जलवों में हमेशा तो बसर होती नहीं... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-was6A5RHqKU/UyiFeCm_J8I/AAAAAAAAQwM/Yv9xybd-1TI/s1600/Life+0km.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-was6A5RHqKU/UyiFeCm_J8I/AAAAAAAAQwM/Yv9xybd-1TI/s1600/Life+0km.jpg" height="200" width="166" /></a></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मैंने जज़्बात के ज़रिये ही दुनिया देखी....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उम्र ढलती रही औ’ रास्ते गुज़रते गए </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक माज़ी - वो आँखें जो मुझे देखती हैं</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उनका गुनहगार तो हूँ मैं फिर भी</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मैं कहूँगा कि मैं भटकता रहा, लेकिन फिर भी </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मैंने उजड़े हुए मंज़र, भटकी हुईं गलियां देखीं...
</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उम्र जलवों में हमेशा तो बसर होती नहीं... </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मैंने जज़्बात के ज़रिये ही दुनिया देखी....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ढूंढते रह गए कुछ ख्वाब जो अपनी मंजिल </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ख्वामखाह जीने की कुछ रस्में निभाते रहे </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">हाँ, सही है कि कुछ ले के चले, भूल गए</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मगर ये पगडंडियों कहाँ से चलीं, और अब कहाँ लाईं</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">इनकी सोहबत में मरुस्थल में भी कलियाँ देखीं...</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उम्र जलवों में हमेशा तो बसर होती नहीं... </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मैंने जज़्बात के ज़रिये ही दुनिया देखी....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">इक समन्दर की लहर जैसी ये दिल की हलचल</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">क्या पता किस भंवर में एक दिन सम जायेगी </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">फिर भी कोशिश तो करी थी उछल के छूने की</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">आसमां को - मगर न बाँध सके आँधियों को पर फिर भी
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उन चंद लम्हों में छिपी सी कई सदियाँ देखीं...</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">उम्र जलवों में हमेशा तो बसर होती नहीं... </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p>- Jamshedpur (Jan-March, 2014)</o:p></span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-75111548339292606242014-03-06T08:53:00.000-08:002014-03-06T08:53:29.603-08:00...the magic of those yesterdays<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPL7d-FwV3-j89uoKDwJOs69ljZPBAAFqBIQgb09zd8Ohskm68i-eZ7IkONXp68ym5fYsSO92OIiuc8IMbUxSCmbSn4EEtxrfrCtSugOzIBLgpAOPcTqf5pZTIUk5qC_xDmGx7w/s1600/observer+to+the+flow+of+life1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPL7d-FwV3-j89uoKDwJOs69ljZPBAAFqBIQgb09zd8Ohskm68i-eZ7IkONXp68ym5fYsSO92OIiuc8IMbUxSCmbSn4EEtxrfrCtSugOzIBLgpAOPcTqf5pZTIUk5qC_xDmGx7w/s1600/observer+to+the+flow+of+life1.jpg" height="190" width="200" /></a>those were the days (more than four decades back) when we in our late-teens were struggling to find/ guess what the life would be like... term like 'career', 'job', 'life-style', 'salary', etc, had not entered the lingua-franca in conversations with parents and among peers in that era<br />
....<br />
<br />
one of the co-travellers had written these blank-verses, which make much more sense now than they did then (or perhaps they did - and that's why I had preserved them)...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>"When I go into the library of my life,</em><br />
<em>And see rows and rows of yesterdays</em><br />
<em>Neatly arranged in shelves</em><br />
<em>Yearwise - catalogued,</em><br />
<em>I always pick from just one shelf;</em><br />
<em>Oh, those volumes are all thumbed now</em><br />
<em>and there isn't a single experience</em><br />
<em>that I haven't lived each night...</em><br />
<em>And yet</em><br />
<em>Such is the magic of those yesterdays..</em><br />
<em>...that I come out</em><br />
<em>A wiser man!"</em><br />
<br />
- Amitabh Lal</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-75244515814617419152014-03-02T09:45:00.000-08:002014-03-02T09:52:34.423-08:00मगर ये साल गलत लगता है...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
मगर ये साल गलत लगता है...<br />
<br />
मार्च आया, पर बंयाइन की बाँहों से<br />
आज भी पसीने की गंध आई नहीं <br />
मेरी खिड़की के परे आज भी बादल बरसे <br />
ढूंढ कर गरम मोज़े मैंने पहन लिए<br />
लग रहा है कि धरा ने बदल ली करवट <br />
लग रहा है कि मौसम बदलने लगे <br />
... मैं चला जाऊँगा कहीं कुछ चंद सालों में'<br />
छोड़ जाऊँगा जहाँ मेरी गलतियाँ भी थीं <br />
<br />
शायद इसीलिए...<br />
ये 'रोमांटिक' मौसम कचोटता है <br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-66322133039409706142014-01-19T10:00:00.000-08:002014-01-19T10:00:51.021-08:00सोचता हूँ एक दिन ऐसा भी होगा...सोचता हूँ एक दिन ऐसा भी होगा <br>
खुद से मैं कह सकूँगा डूबती सी यादों में<br>
अब न इंतजार, न मंजिल की तलाश <br>
ज़िन्दगी गूंजती है कायनातों में...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-76043563713081367122014-01-07T10:10:00.001-08:002014-01-07T10:27:29.842-08:00और सोलह साल बीते जा रहे हैं...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lAqeb1f6J0/UsxD3mk1FKI/AAAAAAAAQus/lTHl7mcNZd0/s1600/1980a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8lAqeb1f6J0/UsxD3mk1FKI/AAAAAAAAQus/lTHl7mcNZd0/s200/1980a.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">और सोलह साल बीते जा रहे हैं...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">जानता था, समझता, झुटला रहा था </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">एक परदा गिर रहा था, धुंध जैसा </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">और मैं सहमा हुआ सा, याद करता... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">एक पगडंडी जहाँ हम-तुम चले थे </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">साथ थे, पर तुम्हारी राह अपनी... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">और मैं चलता चला आया यहाँ तक </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">जानता, इस दौर में मेरे कदम भी</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">एक दिन मिल जायेंगे वहीँ पे ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">पर मैं ये भी समझता हूँ... कि हमसब बुलबुले हैं </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">कारवां आते रहे, जाते रहे हैं...
</span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-82018221505767433952013-12-18T09:27:00.000-08:002013-12-18T09:27:42.169-08:00उजाले अपनी यादों के, हमारे साथ रहने दो....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jww7PYE2JzI/UrHY2McwyGI/AAAAAAAAQtY/xpvJ41lMZTU/s1600/1976b1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jww7PYE2JzI/UrHY2McwyGI/AAAAAAAAQtY/xpvJ41lMZTU/s320/1976b1.jpg" /></a></div>many, many years back, this couplet (don't even know/remember who wrote this) had a very different 'romantic' meaning in my <i>then</i> "life-in-progress" (as it is now), when one didn't know how life will unfold:<p>
उजाले अपनी यादों के, हमारे साथ रहने दो<br>
न जाने किस गली में ज़िन्दगी कि शाम हो जाये <p>
..and December comes and the random disconnected images of Dec 1997 keep on cropping up...<p>
hmmm... life happens!
so be it!
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-54349523368196568202013-10-29T11:00:00.000-07:002013-10-29T11:01:26.511-07:00मेरी बालकनी के नीचे से... हर साल एक कारवां गज़र जाता है<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZiTB2U1vic/Um_1rdnoclI/AAAAAAAAQi8/Shz5ShLPd34/s1600/balcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PZiTB2U1vic/Um_1rdnoclI/AAAAAAAAQi8/Shz5ShLPd34/s200/balcony.jpg" width="200" /></a>मेरी बालकनी के नीचे से<br />
हर साल एक कारवां गज़र जाता है...<br />
<br />
चहकती हंसी, उम्मीदों भरी बातें<br />
थिरकते पैरों में बनती कई यादें <br />
जो ज़िन्दगी भर इन मुसाफिर को<br />
हंसांएगी, रुलायेंगी - कुछ बातें, कुछ यादें...<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
सोचता हूँ, इक दिन मिलूं तो पूछूँगा<br />
कहाँ किया है दफ्न सपनों को<br />
ये पत्थरों का शहर कैसा है<br />
जहाँ शीशे में सब बंध जाता है..<br />
<br />
तुम्हारी अपनी दास्ताँ भले ही सही <br />
ग़र बता दो कि ये कैसे किया<br />
रूह से फैसला वो ख्वाबों का <br />
जो उभरने से पहले बीत गए...<br />
<br />
ये दास्ताँ भले तुम्हारी है <br />
मगर... <br />
मेरी बालकनी के नीचे से<br />
हर साल एक कारवां गज़र जाता है...</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-31452418576061375092013-10-26T09:06:00.000-07:002013-10-26T09:22:50.302-07:00...for these handful of dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvIQJMvr85hGR8rzfbOzH15eYEksdGt1gp40CCArCirybMIb7FaiiP4wkeNzDFkraG42jZcGdVyO1sV9g7xwAO33mQGfEpUb1n01yBazWWj3bMZadaI64Ani1MHpv4Q5XOGEDLg/s1600/aashray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvIQJMvr85hGR8rzfbOzH15eYEksdGt1gp40CCArCirybMIb7FaiiP4wkeNzDFkraG42jZcGdVyO1sV9g7xwAO33mQGfEpUb1n01yBazWWj3bMZadaI64Ani1MHpv4Q5XOGEDLg/s320/aashray.jpg" width="320" /></a>When you told me<br />
without knowing<br />
that…<br />
there is no home!<br />
…not for me.<br />
<br />
I looked at you<br />
trying to read your eyes....<br />
They were sincere<br />
understanding<br />
and frank…<br />
<br />
I was not surprised.<br />
<br />
I had this feeling<br />
<br />
…<em>that</em><br />
Home is a myth<br />
created by the frightened cavemen…<br />
…<em>that</em><br />
it is the ideology of<br />
of the lost traveller…<br />
…<em>that</em> it is the dream<br />
of a crippled child….<br />
<br />
And I had also known…<br />
…that a part of me<br />
is frightened, crippled and lost…<br />
<br />
maybe...<br />
I need a home more than you…<br />
maybe...<br />
I can also afford <em>not to need it</em>…<br />
<br />
So<br />
let us, my dream,<br />
face together<br />
this dreamless world…<br />
<br />
...even if,<br />
to face it<br />
I have to crush my dreams…<br />
<br />
Maybe<br />
it is for these handful of dreams<br />
that<br />
I want to defy the world.<br />
<br />
- Sept 29th, 1976 (Lucknow/ Kanpur)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-83566727283026652142013-10-23T10:29:00.000-07:002013-10-23T10:29:52.046-07:00आदि-अंत सब भूल चूका हूँ, ये कैसी उर-गति पहचानी ?...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0EBy0Jf9d4/UmgHCA3mFqI/AAAAAAAAQiE/ORufh6T7vlg/s1600/IMG_2104%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0EBy0Jf9d4/UmgHCA3mFqI/AAAAAAAAQiE/ORufh6T7vlg/s320/IMG_2104%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a>आज अधूरी वही कहानी<br />
यदि अनन्त यति मिटा सके तो<br />
हर युग नें दोहराया जिसको<br />
बात सुना दे वही पुरानी....<br />
<br />
स्वर यदि जब बैरी बन जाए<br />
मौन नयन ही कह उठते हैं<br />
उर को जो है कथा सुनानी...<br />
<br />
उर रोता तो नयन भीगते <br />
बन जाती अभिव्यक्ति स्वयं ही<br />
लिख देता आँखों का पानी...<br />
<br />
नहीं कहीं दीपक की झिलमिल <br />
भटक-भटक कर बना रहा हूँ<br />
खोयी, अदिश, राह अनजानी...<br />
<br />
ये पुकार किसकी आती है<br />
आदि-अंत सब भूल चूका हूँ<br />
ये कैसी उर-गति पहचानी ?...<br />
<br />
- Dec 8th, 1973 (Lucknow)<br />
***</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-51123620619182530742013-10-06T12:41:00.001-07:002013-10-23T10:30:27.706-07:00एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LcOfVtdKHNk/UlG8yz_sirI/AAAAAAAAQhw/5-urRgEXb5k/s1600/yin+yang1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LcOfVtdKHNk/UlG8yz_sirI/AAAAAAAAQhw/5-urRgEXb5k/s200/yin+yang1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक सुलझी डोर से दिखते रहे</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक उलझी सी कहानी बन गए </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">हाथ बढ़ते ज़िन्दगी छूने लिए</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">पर सहमते</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">,</span></span><span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> रास्तों के मोड़ पर </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ठिठकते पग ख्वाब की दहलीज पर</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">दो कदम आगे बढ़े, फिर मुड़ गए</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक अंतर में धधकती आग थी </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ज़िन्दगी में उलझने की चाह थी </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">मगर वो किरदार जो अपना लगे <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">दास्ताँ में खोजते ही रह गए </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक मुझमें ही कोई था अजनबी</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">कभी अपना था, पराया था कभी</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">कभी मिलता, फिर चला जाता कहीं</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">खुद को उसमें ढूंढते ही रह गए</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">इक कहानी जो सुनानी थी हमें</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">अपनी ख़ामोशी के खंडहर में कहीं </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ज़िन्दगी के हाशिये पर, लफ्ज़ कुछ </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">बनके बस आधी लकीरें रह गए </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">जानता मुझमें खुदा, हैवान भी</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ज़िन्दगी की सांस भी, शमशान भी</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">महज़ इक कतरा मैं, औ’ ये कायनात</span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">इसमें हम बहते रहे, बहते गए </span><span style="mso-bidi-language: HI;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">एक दोहरी ज़िन्दगी जीते रहे....</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-89968845338100816322013-07-19T11:31:00.001-07:002013-07-19T11:32:14.163-07:00... और तू बेवजह भटकता रहा, चलता रहा <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CSzZQ14JsR8/UemFuLtBuiI/AAAAAAAAQY8/DGY-kzMs3mc/s1600/The+Journey+06a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CSzZQ14JsR8/UemFuLtBuiI/AAAAAAAAQY8/DGY-kzMs3mc/s200/The+Journey+06a.jpg" width="200" /></a>हमने सोचा था कि दो-चार कदम चल लेंगे<br />
और ये दास्ताँ कहाँ से चली<br />
मोड़ के रास्तों की भटकन में<br />
ढूंढती-ढूंढती कहाँ लायी..<br />
<br />
ये वो मंजिल नहीं, जहाँ के लिए<br />
हमने सौदा किया था साहिल से<br />
मगर वो बांवरी सी कुछ लहरें<br />
हमें फुसला के फिर यहाँ लायीं ...<br />
<br />
कभी लगता है कि ये ही मंजिल है<br />
कभी लगता कि ये पड़ाव के क्षण<br />
एक दिन रूह फिर बताएगी<br />
मैं यहीं थी, यहाँ आई<br />
<br />
... और तू बेवजह भटकता रहा, चलता रहा<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-21576848491490938272013-07-03T11:15:00.000-07:002013-07-03T11:15:49.085-07:00Journey - from Franz Kafka to Organisational Theory...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BA1G9ZS88E4/UdRp-1sKj5I/AAAAAAAAQYY/5LNvYT6P128/s1024/choices.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BA1G9ZS88E4/UdRp-1sKj5I/AAAAAAAAQYY/5LNvYT6P128/s200/choices.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some posts on FB told me today that today is Franz Kafka's birth anniversary (I didn't know that!) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- and thus these meanderings of times gone past... </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and this post...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many, many years back, when I was in late teens, Kafka, Sartre, Camus, Fannon etc. used to be the staple diet - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner - of life...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and then life took its own turns, and took/led me elsewhere through its own mysterious designs and destinies... </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But vestiges linger, and "everything returns".. so when wrote my first book (on </span><a href="http://books.google.co.in/books/about/Understanding_Organisations.html?id=HErgoKxVURIC&redir_esc=y"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Organizational Design</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">) Kafka came back.. and this is how the book started:</span><br /><br />
</span></div>
<div align="center" class="BothIndent" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0.25in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chapter 1 Interpreting Organisational Reality<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="Bodytext" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>The (anti‑)hero of Franz Kafka’s The
Castle is a wanderer, searching for a sense of identity. His name is K, no
more than that. Wishing to escape from his lonely rootlessness, he tries
desperately to seek acceptance from the ambiguous authority structure of the
castle. But his attempts to make a meaningful contact with the authorities turn
out to be frustrating. He is unable to fathom the vagueness and ambiguity, not
to mention the stark impersonality of the echelons of the castle. Their
procedures seem arbitrary, devoid of any humane, or even meaningful, content.
At times he feels he is being unfairly treated and so responds with ineffectual
defiance. But a more common feeling is of self‑doubt, a sense of guilt, that it
must be his own fault. If there is a rule, it has to have a rationale, some
meaning, even if one finds it difficult to comprehend it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his isolation and his inability to make a
confident response, he senses that the problem must be with him only, not with
the authorities.</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>He feels
indecisive, and that he must keep on trying. There must be some way of
satisfying the unclear requirements of the authorities, to behave
satisfactorily so that they will accept him. If he could only figure out the
rules, he would follow them.</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: windowtext;"></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: windowtext;">In many ways, the allegory of <i>The Castle</i> is an
archetypal version of the contemporary individual in an organisation. Of
course, organisations are not as unpredictable as the castle. But they are
complex enough systems to create a bewildering array of inconsistent images,
and bring out our most deep‑seated anxieties, predispositions and biases. For
K, unable to comprehend how the authorities of the castle functioned, the
castle became the canvas on which his personal inferiority, his need to belong,
his loneliness could be projected; like most of us, K lived in a world of his
own making; more so, because he (again, like many of us) lacked the conceptual
options of viewing and interpreting his world in any other manner. The tragic consequence
was his loss of individuality and an abject dependence on the authorities. This
probably is the single most important reason for any practising or potential
manager to develop an insight into the organisational reality.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-12587883678323725262013-06-04T09:21:00.001-07:002013-06-04T09:21:39.239-07:00Adios!... to a friend I never "met"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B7fb7atY-rs/Ua4TaCLgMFI/AAAAAAAAQW4/1fPl75dYmcg/s1600/saathi+na+koyi+manzil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B7fb7atY-rs/Ua4TaCLgMFI/AAAAAAAAQW4/1fPl75dYmcg/s200/saathi+na+koyi+manzil.jpg" width="200" /></a>I have lived a sort of 'virtual' / parallel existence for almost a decade and half now (being an early convert to the <em>Net</em>) - in a virtual reality, where I have met and made friends with many wonderful souls, with whom I keep interacting, learning and sharing - but whom I have never met (and will perhaps never meet). <br />
<br />
Most of them appear to be <em>there</em> for years to come... so, when this news about the departure of an e-friend (and an alumnus of the institute which has sheltered me for more than 2 decade) came this morning - it sort of shook up the sure, secure world... virtual friends, people you never met, but were part of the journey, too move on!!<br />
<br />
The mail said:<br />
<br />
<em>"The end was quick; his heart just stopped. And he moved on..."</em><br />
<br />
Yes, that had to happen!!... in a way, one knew it coming. He was suffering from multiple sclerosis... Out of the blue, a couple of years back he had called me up (that was my sole encounter with him in the 'real' world), had shared what he was going through - and that no! this is not "life-threatening" - that he will pull through... (one believed him then)<br />
<br />
A few months back, a common friend had posted about his organs failing... and about doctors taking a decision to keep or pull-back the life support systems...<br />
<br />
***<br />
We had never met in person, but were co-conspirators when I was trying to build the alumni network on yahoogroups (that was back in 99-01), and he was among the first ones to become the co-moderator for his batch group... together we, mostly him, dug out MIAs, and got them into the group (many of his batch-mates, connected as they are today, perhaps would recall that great act of bringing all together)... Off and on, we had exchanged mails, as he moved from Chennai to Dubai and then back... <br />
<br />
I carry an image of him as person who was full of life, could reach out, connect, and give.... though, I don't even know what he looked like...<br />
<br />
His departure kept echoing in my mind today... <br />
...and so I thought the least I can do to celebrate the life of this person whose path inadvertently crossed mine, is to scribble down these random memories...<br />
<br />
Good bye, Bharath 'Brat' Chandran!!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-44932646362331566562013-05-26T06:20:00.000-07:002013-05-26T07:03:21.579-07:00Life as "The Glass Bead Game"...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Herman Hesse’s <em><strong>The Glass Bead Game</strong></em> is a book which I never read – at least,
never read in full, cover-to-cover - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and
yet in many ways it served as a reflection – and resolution - of much that was happening
within as I was growing up. One conversation between Joseph Knecht and the
Master remained relevant over years...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">---<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsrFbZveQV53TrSm86tSoW0LcHjDvZYeLvFZREJ0fIJVh-5B70jzi2ZEyzNqN1TqDuo-k3tYdcukNDFh0cKskFbAQu3Dnm2UYjg3cHLjtIEC0rrY7Tubvgp-1n6NxWUL6ZuY7NA/s1600/The+Journey+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsrFbZveQV53TrSm86tSoW0LcHjDvZYeLvFZREJ0fIJVh-5B70jzi2ZEyzNqN1TqDuo-k3tYdcukNDFh0cKskFbAQu3Dnm2UYjg3cHLjtIEC0rrY7Tubvgp-1n6NxWUL6ZuY7NA/s200/The+Journey+05.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"If only there were a dogma to believe in. <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Everything is contradictory, everything tangential; there are no
certainties anywhere. Everything can be interpreted one way and then again
interpreted in the opposite sense.</span> The whole of history can be explained
as development and progress and can also be seen as nothing but decadence and
meaninglessness. Isn't there any truth? Is there no real and valid
doctrine?"<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
The Master had never heard him speak so fervently. He walked on in silence for
a little, then said, <em>"<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">There is
truth, my boy. But the doctrine you desire, absolute, perfect dogma that alone
provides wisdom, does not exist.</span> Nor should you long for a perfect
doctrine, my friend. Rather, you should long for the perfection of yourself. <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The deity is within you, not in ideas and
books. Truth is lived, not taught.</span> Be prepared for conflicts, Joseph
Knecht — I can see they have already begun."<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-76028257304324583742013-05-05T11:43:00.000-07:002013-05-05T12:00:15.445-07:00एक तसवीर साथ रहती है ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wlwFmcr-BRI/UYaiC3IDunI/AAAAAAAAQQ8/_3bJsy5ovVY/s1600/1977a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wlwFmcr-BRI/UYaiC3IDunI/AAAAAAAAQQ8/_3bJsy5ovVY/s200/1977a.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>
न ये रूकती है, न थमती है कभी<br />
ना ठिठक कर के सांस लेती है<br />
इक अधूरी-सी दास्ताँ में गुम<br />
भूली यादों के साये में छुपी<br />
एक तसवीर साथ रहती है ...<br />
<br />
एक छोटी-सी वो कहानी थी<br />
जाने क्यूँ खो गयी - पर वो कहते हैं<br />
जैसे दरिया मिला समंदर में<br />
हाँ, मैं जानता हूँ पर फिर भी<br />
एक तसवीर साथ रहती है ...</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521860.post-88691033643466379052013-03-20T12:00:00.000-07:002013-03-20T12:00:47.018-07:00एक मैं..और बहुत सी परछाईयां हैं <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
एक मैं <br />
और बहुत सी परछाईयां हैं <br />
कुछ पुरानी, कुछ नयी परछाईयां हैं ..<br />
<br />
और कुछ सहमे हुए से <br />
बादलों की सेज पर <br />
स्वप्न जैसी ये कई परछाईयां हैं <br />
<br />
... आज जब गंतव्य में हूँ <br />
खो गया जो सूर्य पश्चिम में पिघलता <br />
याद करता हूँ ..<br />
बहुत परछाईयां थीं, बहुत परछाईयां हैं <br />
<br />
खो गयीं कुछ, <br />
कुछ अभी भी ढूंढती रहतीं हैं <br />
मुझको <br />
ढूंढता रहता हूँ मैं उनमे अपने आप को <br />कुछ पुरानी, कुछ नयी परछाईयां हैं ..<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1