Pehli Yaadein

Kya yaad hai tumhe vo pehli mulakaat?

Hamare beech kuch 20 seediyon ka faasla tha,

Aur July ki thi vo pehli barsaat

Na jaane peeche mudkar kyun dekha maine,

Tum bhi muskuraakar mujhe hi dekh rahe the

Shayad mere chaate par nazar daal rahe the.

Us do pal ke khamosh alfaaz

Zindagi ban jayege, yeh na socha tha.

Fir kabhi yehi yaad mere dil ko tatolte

Kuch pal ke aansoon de jayenge, yeh na socha tha.

Aaj firse mudkar dekhne ka man hai,

Usi barish main bheegne ka man hai

Tum wahi khade rehna muskuraate hue.

Kyunki aaj ek baar fir vo pal jeene ka man hai. 

Kya yaad hai tumhe vo pehli baar haath pakadna?

Gaalon ka sharmaana, hoton ka umadte jasbaat dabaana

kuch pal tanha guzarne ki chaah main dil ka tadapna.

Tumne chimti kaati thi mujhe zor ki,

Gusse main haath hataya tha maine.

Pyaar se mere haathon ko choomkar

Apne haathon ke beech chupa liya tha tumne.

Tumhara pyaar se satana,

Zindagi ban jayegi, yeh na socha tha

Fir yehi pyaar dil ko satate hue dard ban kar

kuch pal ke ansoon de jayegi, yeh na socha tha.

Aaj fir dil ko tadpaane ka man hai,

Bematlab ki baton par naraaz hone ka man hai,

Tum mera haath apne hathon ke beech chupa lena

Kyunki aaj ek baar fir vo pal jeene ka man hai.

Kya yaad hai tumhe humari vo pehli takraar?

Ek hafte tak roz tumhara number milakar kaat deti thi

Aur Raat ko takiye se apna saara gum baant leti thi.

Aakhir jab 7 din baad darwaaze par tumhe dekha

Toh yeh bhi bhool gayi ki kis baat par naraaz hui thi,

Pal bhar main sulah bhi ho gayi aur pyaar bhari baatein bhi ki,

Ek doosre ke ankahi baton ko samajhne ki

anginat kasmain vaadein bhi ki.

Tumse yun kasmon se jud jaana

Zindagi ban jayegi, yeh na socha tha

Fir yehi toote kasmain mere dil ko chubakar,

Kuch pal ke aansun de jayenge, yeh na socha tha.

Aaj fir tumse roothne ka man hai,

Door rehkar tumhe meri yaad dilaane ka man hai

Par is baar tumhe mananne ka mauka nahi denge

Ab bas khudko jeena sikhaane ka man hai.

Kyunki aaj aakhri baar in palon ko yaad karne ka man hai!

A Street Story

She sat on the floor, wailing incessantly with tears coursing their way through her mud caked cheeks. Her mother lay on the floor a feet away from her, oblivious and insensitive to her cries. After wailing for nearly half an hour, her lungs were gasping for breath. Hungry, wet, dirty and desperate for comfort, she ambled off to sit near her mother waiting for the latter to wake up.

Choti, was a street’s child. Born on the street, slept on the street, ate on the street and played on the street. The street was her home and her whole world, a place who owned her with more right than her own mother. Her mother begged near the entrance of a metro station. When hungry, Choti would wail out aloud to catch her mother’s attention, who would then either let Choti suckle at her lifelessly sagging breast or fill her stomach with water from the nearby tap. On better days, her mother would push into her toothless mouth tidbits of the leftovers that the passersby gave her. At night they would sleep in a small house of used tarpaulin behind the metro station. Curled up against the warm comfort of her mother’s body, Choti slept unmindful to the hunger gnawing at her belly. 

As usual when the morning dawned on the darkness of their night, Choti’s mother picked her up and made her way to station dragging her feet behind her. She did not coddle Choti as usual before the melee of travelers thronged the gates and begging for money and food would start. Today her mother set her down near the gate and lay down on the floor besides her. She lay with her eyes wide open but a strange emptiness dominated her vision. The brightness of the morning light stung her eyes, the silent morning broken by the humdrum of life thumped against her ears and the breeze pricked her skin cruelly. 

Choti, unaware of her mother’s unnamed predicament, sat surrounded by the upswept garbage on the floor and played happily in her street’s dirt and dust. Yet after awhile, she craved for her mother’s touch. She crawled over to her mother, grabbing the loose ends of her filthy sari, pulling it free.

Her mother did not react.

She jabbed at her mother fingers, jerking them with urgency.

Her mother did not react.

She poked her mother in the eye, which was staring away earnestly, unblinking, at a sight far beyond.

Her mother did not react.

Choti’s desperation finally gave way to a heart throttled cry for attention. She walked about the gate crying her unsung tale of helplessness and deprivation.

The passersby sidestepped Choti, staying out of her reach as they made their way to mundane destinations. She sat there flailing about her arms trying to catch hold of the flurry of colors that was hurrying past her. Having lost interest in her unreceptive mother, she went back to her precious toys and games. Soon a crowd gathered around the wide eyed woman, lying on the floor bereft of life. The thronging crowd obstructed Choti’s view of her mother, throwing her into another fit of grief which fell on deaf ears. A while later, her mother was picked up from the floor and bundled off to a van which disappeared into oblivion. Choti sat unnoticed in her tears and wails.

The man at the bus stop had been engrossed in the morning news paper when his reverie was broken by the hungama at the station. A woman’s dead body had been found and over endless discussions on the cause of her death, she was whisked away to the mortuary. The ordinary people, whose lives had been disrupted by this extraordinary morning, soon settled back into their routines. The man was also about to go back to his wait at the bus stop when he noticed the sobbing child. Seeing the lone child at the station gates, he enquired with a street hawker,

 “Whose child is this?”

“The dead woman’s sahib” replied the hawker.

“Where is the child’s father?”

“I don’t know sahib. The woman lived here only with this child”

The man walked towards Choti and crouched near her. He offered her his fingers, onto which she grabbed happily. He picked her up and rested her on his shoulder and thumped her back gently; Choti was finally getting the coddling she was crying for since morning. The man retraced his steps back home. It was indeed an extraordinary morning!