a homage in waiting

That moment when you want to be honest and make a clean abreast of everything, not that you have sinned to the full but because it's time. With your givings and misgivings and everything. When you want to cease resisting and surrender.

Someone like her would never submit to a happy forever, however much she wishes her forever to be happy. She'd need to first have a fight to fight inside of her, would need to be made to bow down, would need to be ruled in order to make her love. And at the same time, she'd want all the world at her feet and that he should bring it to her and subtly so, without caring if she knows. All this in thought, HIS thought! She craves to stand in obeisance, in reverence of him, in submission to his will. Why? Because she believes that he is. And there she wants to stand silent, as if it were a secret she'd never tell him about. 'Idol' worship had always been so essential to her. But never did meet her a God.

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"You told me not to lose faith. But I am. It is slipping out of my hands tonight."

the sporadic

When your mind is cluttered it gets tough to write. And when your mind is uncluttered it gets impossible to write. I think one needs the right amount of nonsense to fill our senses to make us come up with 'words'. The case with me seems the former. I have been meaning to write much and for quite a long time..... But, let alone my wailing be.

So, first the niceties. I am doing well. Happy in my hell, as I said to a friend. Sometimes so distant from home (and i'm not talking geography here) that I know I won't return even when reach back. Some flights are for ever I guess, and I have still been a late bloomer, you'd agree. And the thought of no 'return' - it even makes me happy. 

I am working on my essay these days. "In what sense or senses is poverty a violation of human rights" - goes the question. I have been doing some reading for it but I haven't really been feeling quite there yet. I will start writing today though and I would know where to go thence.

As for the clutter, I seek some method, my madness seeks a method, a route, a chart, a rudder. It would need an anchor too, but on that later. 

I have been dreaming a lot these past few weeks. And dreaming pretty. Every person, every act is symbolic, turning me into quite an impromptu Freud as I open my eyes to the day ahead.

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I got all wet last night while coming from a lecture given by Prof. Amartya Sen. It had begin to rain a little by the time I started from the lecture hall across the Thames. Walking along the Jubilee Bridge in slight rain, made me feel so free.. I was as usual, unprepared for the rain and so getting wet by now. As I climbed down the stair case towards Northumberland Avenue, I had to halt at Embankment Station for a while before I could make a dash for my building. But the rain only thickened. Tired with the the wait, I finally took off my overcoat and covered my head with it, wearing it over myself like a cape. Securing my bag and phone with my cold fingers, I went out into the rain again. I couldn't run for fear of slipping, my old worn-out boots are prone to skidding. But it felt so good. Especially because it was late at night and pelting and because I was on my own.

easter break and the coming of spring!

I run.

As always, I've been thrown out. As much as I would wish to get absorbed, as much as I would wish to wade through the puddles of reality - it tracks me down, thrashes me in the head and the other second I know not who I was. As if my time in the penseive was over and out I'm hurled. Once eddied though the convolutions of all that's happening, loneliness strikes and strikes hard. And such fear as I have never known of or imagined fills in around me, choking me. I know not who to go to. There is no one for miles around - just smiling faces, calling out to me. But I keep running, running for life and sanity. Losing my head to it all, I run.

जो मैं सोचे जाती हूँ

मैं पिघलने लगी हूँ शायद. ऐसा नहीं कि अब तक सख्त थी. पर यूं कि घुल जाने का मन करने लगा है. इतना की फर्क ही ना मालूम हो. कि मेरा आगाज़ और मेरा अंत दोनों बेमानी लगने लगे. पिघलना कुछ ऐसा भी कि मांग सकूं. बेधरक कभी माँगा नहीं मैंने. मांगने से हमेशा तो डरती रही हूँ, बड़े-बड़े शब्दों में खुद को उलझाती रही हूँ. अभी कुछ दिन पहले, बिन लफ्ज़ मैंने कुछ मांग लिया था. हो सकता है मुझे बिना बताए मेरी सिसकियों ने मेरे लिए पैरवी कि थी.

जो मिला तो अच्छा लगा था. :)

पोस्ट

आज हिंदी/उर्दू में लिखने का मन है. काफी दिन हुए कुछ ढंग का लिखे हुए. आजकल यूं ही कुछ भी पोस्ट कर दिए जा रही हूँ, ताकि मन को तसल्ली रहे कुछ तो लिखा है मैंने. हो सकता है यूं लिखना लेखन का नहीं, मेरी नासमझी का प्रतीक हो, पर कभी-कभार नासमझी में ही सुकून है. और इसी बहाने मेरी रोजमर्रा की आदतें वगेहरा भी दर्ज हो जाया करती हैं.

कल शाम से ही पढ़ाई का भूत सवार है. बेशक मुझे पसंद भी है किताबों से घिरे रहना. कुछ देर में library के लिए रवाना हो जाउंगी. सामाजिक अधिकारों के मुद्दे पर एक निबंध लिखना है. आजकल इसी पर किताबें आदि पढ़ रही हूँ.

विषय मूलतः स्वास्थ और शिक्षा सम्बन्धी अधिकारों का है. क्या वाकई ये 'अधिकार' हैं, या लोगों कि 'ज़रूरतें'? और अगर ज़रूरतें हैं तो क्या आम आदमी हक़ रखता है इन अधिकारों को 'मांगने' का? कहीं पढ़ा कल कि हमारा संविधान हमें स्वास्थ का अधिकार तो देता है, हमारे स्वस्थ्य रहने का जिम्मा नहीं लेता. अंग्रेजी में कहूं तो "we have a right to health, not a right to be healthy". सही भी है शायद. और दिलचस्प भी.

अरसा हुआ हिंदी में कुछ अच्छा पढ़े हुए, शायद इसलिए ज़ेहन में अच्छे/सही शब्दों कि खासी कमी है. कोशिश रहेगी आगे कुछ बेहतर लिखू. जब लिखू.