What do I do when I am no longer an unknown quantity to someone else, especially my loved ones? Should I relish how well she understands me, or should I writhe in pain over being so damned predictable? Isn't variety the spice of life? Isn't it virtue to be the rock that someone can rely on - being predictable and dependable? Can all this be within one person?
It was Sunday morning. The sun was shining in through the windows and I woke up. My dearest lay beside me occupying most of the bed and with her mouth open. She seemed dead for the most part, but the light rhythmic snoring gave me hope that there might be life after all. I pulled out my camera phone and tried to video capture the elusive scene. Next time she claims that she doesn't snore, I could prove it to her! But alas, just as I turned, I shook the bed and the snoring was gone. Drat!
I had made up my mind the previous night to head to the office early. So I woke up at eight and began taking my hour long shower. As soon as I came out of the shower, I see that she has gotten out of bed and made breakfast. I look at her quizzically and she replied saying, "I woke a little after you did. I wanted to make you breakfast. So I did. Guess what I made for you?"
Without question I knew this was going to be one of her demonstrations of how well she knows me. She had me figured down to a science but I wasn't going to go out without a fight. I wanted to remain unpredictable, uncharted, unknown and mysterious. But she knew that too. She even had my unpredicability, my wildest impulses, my impromptu behaviors all figured out. I was dealing with the United States Secret Service with ESP capabilities. But as I do in situations where I am matched up against someone who I know is better than me, I was going to give it my best shot and not care about the consequences. So without much hope of winning the title for the most unpredictable person, I said the weirdest thing that came to mind - "Eggs Benedict?"
To which she said, "Yes! Here you are! Isn't it lovely that I know you so well?!"
Mother...!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Strawberries and Cream
Okay people, here's another episode in the lives of Ajay and Avi. Tell me what you think! :)
The traffic had died down now that it was a little past eight in the evening, late for most others. Ajay had finished his work and had called me to check if I was done as well. A guy in the office was working a little more diligently than usual trying to meet Thursday’s deadline - an effort that I shouldn’t thwart if possible - so I told Ajay to head home and that I’d just take a rickshaw back.
He had agreed and put the phone down, and had nonetheless appeared at the office a half-hour later with ice cream from Corner House. I couldn’t help break out into a smile when I saw him at the door, package in hand, smile on face. He came in and sat across the table and began to remove and lay out everything without saying a word. Without needing to explain.
I heard a knock on the glass door. It was Vinay.
“Avi, I’m going to head off now, I’ll finish up on Monday. I’m just too tired to think right now,” he said.
I wanted to kill him. If it wasn’t for him, I could have headed home early and spent the evening with my lover-boy instead, doing something romantic. But then again, lover-boy was here, and we were doing something romantic, so I guess there’s no need to split hairs over this.
“Alright, off you go. I’ll see you on Monday.” I said, smiling.
Vinay turned to leave, nodding to Ajay, who smiled back. I guess Ajay was a regular at the office. And NOT someone most people would forget. Ajay was magnetic – he had charm that could melt butter at a distance of thirty-two feet (yes I had measured), and people’s hearts were putty in his hands. So, yeah, it was pretty hard for most people to forget him after he had had even the slightest bit of interaction with them.
Me? Most people did not forget me either, but for rather different reasons. A family trait, I had one of the most volatile tempers known to mankind. It would take me all of two seconds to change from being at peace with the universe and all it’s children, to a Tsunami that spared no one. And back again. So, yeah, we were, as a couple, wholly unforgettable.
There was a pitter-pattering on the windowpane, and I turned to see droplets of water lashing against the glass. The water drowned out the noise outside, and I heard the city sigh and shake the day’s toil out of her hair.
Ajay pulled his chair to and relaxed into it. I loosened my tie, and stared at his face, watching how every gentle feature looked in the soft yellow light. There were no sharp corners, just warm, fuzzy edges everywhere. A full, pink set of lips stood out like an island on his fair face. His eyes caught the light and danced a naughty, innocent dance, while his thick black eyelashes fanned them lazily. A hint of stubble ran across his beard giving him a rugged look, and adding to the depth in his personality.
I had been staring silently for a while and had been filled with a sense of peace that spread right through my being. Here was a love that overwhelmed me, a love that I had waited for all my life. The brilliant moment that I met him ran through my mind yet again and a smile crossed my heart in recognition of how lucky I was. I was finding it hard to breathe. I loved this guy so much; I was feeling blessed, glad to be alive, glad to be in love with this perfect human being.
It hadn’t always been like this – it wasn’t always that that I had only love for him. I had been jealous in the beginning. I was absolutely stunned at the effect he had on people. It was absolutely unfair according to me, that he had this power and I didn’t. I had really wanted to bonk all those women who came in shyly into my office, and asked about him once Ajay had come and gone. But then it dawned on me that the object of their affection was mine, that he wasn’t running anywhere, and that he was fast becoming part and parcel of who I was. Eventually the bonking urge disappeared and I began to revel in the attention that Ajay got. You see, I had begun to take them as personal compliments.
I guess you can say I had fallen in love.
And there he was, sitting across the desk, waiting to share strawberries and cream with me.
I got up from my table and padded silently across the carpet to him. I cupped his face in my hands as I reached him, and he squeezed his lips together until he looked like a pleasantly surprised goldfish. I just had to kiss the fellow now didn’t I!
He grabbed me with both hands and drew me into him. His hands caressed my back and I melted into his arms, his lips, and his glorious presence. My hands were running through his short hair, touching his head, feeling every strand, each finger wanting more.
We kissed for quite some time. I withdrew eventually, and turned and sat down between his legs, my back to his chest. His arms were quick to encircle me, softly. I felt his lips on the back of my neck.
“How was your day honey?” he asked, slowly smoothing my hair.
“Well, one of my good people quit. And then there was a phone battle with Mani at Virat. Those jokers just can’t seem to be able to make up their mind about anything, and I end up having to scurry to make the deadlines.” I said, exasperatedly recounting the day’s events.
There was a pause, and then Ajay piped up “Hmm!”
I laughed. “Fine, my day was just fine; sorry I killed the mood. How was your day honey?” I asked back, smiling, twisting my head to have a better look.
“It’s picking up,” he said, smiling back, reaching for the strawberries and cream.
The traffic had died down now that it was a little past eight in the evening, late for most others. Ajay had finished his work and had called me to check if I was done as well. A guy in the office was working a little more diligently than usual trying to meet Thursday’s deadline - an effort that I shouldn’t thwart if possible - so I told Ajay to head home and that I’d just take a rickshaw back.
He had agreed and put the phone down, and had nonetheless appeared at the office a half-hour later with ice cream from Corner House. I couldn’t help break out into a smile when I saw him at the door, package in hand, smile on face. He came in and sat across the table and began to remove and lay out everything without saying a word. Without needing to explain.
I heard a knock on the glass door. It was Vinay.
“Avi, I’m going to head off now, I’ll finish up on Monday. I’m just too tired to think right now,” he said.
I wanted to kill him. If it wasn’t for him, I could have headed home early and spent the evening with my lover-boy instead, doing something romantic. But then again, lover-boy was here, and we were doing something romantic, so I guess there’s no need to split hairs over this.
“Alright, off you go. I’ll see you on Monday.” I said, smiling.
Vinay turned to leave, nodding to Ajay, who smiled back. I guess Ajay was a regular at the office. And NOT someone most people would forget. Ajay was magnetic – he had charm that could melt butter at a distance of thirty-two feet (yes I had measured), and people’s hearts were putty in his hands. So, yeah, it was pretty hard for most people to forget him after he had had even the slightest bit of interaction with them.
Me? Most people did not forget me either, but for rather different reasons. A family trait, I had one of the most volatile tempers known to mankind. It would take me all of two seconds to change from being at peace with the universe and all it’s children, to a Tsunami that spared no one. And back again. So, yeah, we were, as a couple, wholly unforgettable.
There was a pitter-pattering on the windowpane, and I turned to see droplets of water lashing against the glass. The water drowned out the noise outside, and I heard the city sigh and shake the day’s toil out of her hair.
Ajay pulled his chair to and relaxed into it. I loosened my tie, and stared at his face, watching how every gentle feature looked in the soft yellow light. There were no sharp corners, just warm, fuzzy edges everywhere. A full, pink set of lips stood out like an island on his fair face. His eyes caught the light and danced a naughty, innocent dance, while his thick black eyelashes fanned them lazily. A hint of stubble ran across his beard giving him a rugged look, and adding to the depth in his personality.
I had been staring silently for a while and had been filled with a sense of peace that spread right through my being. Here was a love that overwhelmed me, a love that I had waited for all my life. The brilliant moment that I met him ran through my mind yet again and a smile crossed my heart in recognition of how lucky I was. I was finding it hard to breathe. I loved this guy so much; I was feeling blessed, glad to be alive, glad to be in love with this perfect human being.
It hadn’t always been like this – it wasn’t always that that I had only love for him. I had been jealous in the beginning. I was absolutely stunned at the effect he had on people. It was absolutely unfair according to me, that he had this power and I didn’t. I had really wanted to bonk all those women who came in shyly into my office, and asked about him once Ajay had come and gone. But then it dawned on me that the object of their affection was mine, that he wasn’t running anywhere, and that he was fast becoming part and parcel of who I was. Eventually the bonking urge disappeared and I began to revel in the attention that Ajay got. You see, I had begun to take them as personal compliments.
I guess you can say I had fallen in love.
And there he was, sitting across the desk, waiting to share strawberries and cream with me.
I got up from my table and padded silently across the carpet to him. I cupped his face in my hands as I reached him, and he squeezed his lips together until he looked like a pleasantly surprised goldfish. I just had to kiss the fellow now didn’t I!
He grabbed me with both hands and drew me into him. His hands caressed my back and I melted into his arms, his lips, and his glorious presence. My hands were running through his short hair, touching his head, feeling every strand, each finger wanting more.
We kissed for quite some time. I withdrew eventually, and turned and sat down between his legs, my back to his chest. His arms were quick to encircle me, softly. I felt his lips on the back of my neck.
“How was your day honey?” he asked, slowly smoothing my hair.
“Well, one of my good people quit. And then there was a phone battle with Mani at Virat. Those jokers just can’t seem to be able to make up their mind about anything, and I end up having to scurry to make the deadlines.” I said, exasperatedly recounting the day’s events.
There was a pause, and then Ajay piped up “Hmm!”
I laughed. “Fine, my day was just fine; sorry I killed the mood. How was your day honey?” I asked back, smiling, twisting my head to have a better look.
“It’s picking up,” he said, smiling back, reaching for the strawberries and cream.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Market mein hulchul...
Ustad Charan Biryanee Kha[n] markit mein ek din guzar rahe the, unke begumne unko sabji leke aane ki hukum jo dee thi. Ustaad Charan Biryanee Kha[n] kuch jaane pehchaane hone ke wajah se kaeen log salaam kiye. Aur bhaag gaye. Utni, uh, kadar karte jo the.
Ustaad Charan Biryanee Kha[n] Nehru gali mein jaate rahe ki achaanak unke priy shishy Anmol (jinka last name Ratan tha) ke oopar unki nazar pad gayi. Anmol miyaan coffee shop mein chaay peete kisi pustak mein doob mar rahe the (weh "doobe huen" nahin, "doob mar rahe the" kyoon ki unko pichle hafte heen Urdu ke akshar sikhaya gaya tha) aur isi liye Ustad ke aahat ko pehchaane nahin. Warna weh bhi chalaang marke...uh apni kadar dikha dete.
Ustaad unke back par ek slap karke, Anmol miyaan ke baaju bench pe bait gaye. Anmol miyaan ke hosh aate heen weh bhaagne ki koshish kee thee, par Ustad salaam ke bajaay jamke hug kar rahe the tho Anmol miyaan ko wapas bench par baitna pada. Unke sir par paseena nikalna shuru ho gaya. Unhone ek green rang ki ek rumaal nikaalke usko ponch dee.
Anmol miyaan Ustad ke shishy apne khushi se nahin, par apne Ma ki aakhri ichchaa poora karne ke liye unke shishy ban chuke the. Aap mujhe galat na samjhe - Anmol miyaan shayad Ustaad ke yahan phir bhi shiksha ke liye jaate. Shayad. Aur unke Ma ke maanasik santulan theek nahin hone ke baare mein saalon se khabar phehli thee. Weh jab bhi public mein dikhaai padte tho koi na koi unko paththar maar deta. Par Anmol miyaan shayad apne taraf se bhi Ustaad ke yaha shaamil ho sakte the. Shayad. Aur waise bhi Anmol miyaan ki kismat waise bhi phooti thee...
Apne heen wachan se bandhe hone ke wajah se, Anmol miyaan hichakte huen Ustad ke yahaan shishy ban gaye the. Jab bhi Ustaad ko dekhte tho Anmol miyaan ko apni Ma ki yaad, aur us dukh bhari pal (unke Ma ki gujarne ki, Ustaad ke yahaan shamil hone ki nahin) yaad aa jaata. Anmol miyaan apne paakit mein se ek batuwaa nikaalke, apne Ma ki ek gandi black and white tasveer ko nihaare. Unke Ma us tasveer mein phoot phoot ke has rahi thee. Anmol miyaan ke aankhon mein aansoon nikal aayee.
Ustad unse pooche: "Anmol miyaan, aap ro kyoon rahe hai? Roiye mat, us se kuch bhi hal nahin hota hai. Mujhse poochiye, main jaanta hoon majbooriyon ke baare mein. Maine isi ke baare mein ek shaayari bhi likh chuka hoon." Ustad wahin pause kiye, par Anmol miyaan kuch pooche nahin - woh apne ghum mein doobe hue the. Ustaad phir se try kiye - "Kya aap mere shayari sunenge?" Anmol miyaan apna sar "Nahin!" bolte huen hilaaye, par Ustad jaldi se nazar pher liye aur unke ishaaron ko ignore karte huen aage nikal pade. Anmol miyaan ke aansoon thoda aur mote ho gaye.
"Tho haazir hain...
Bhejthi hai hume sabji le aane ko,
Pehchaanti nahin hamari asli kaabilyat,
Batata, pyaas ke chakkar mein lage rahthe hai hum,
Hamaare haaton kat jaatee hain tamaatar sata sat.
Biwi hai hamaaree moti bhains jaisi,
Akal bhi utni hai, moti bhains ki jitni,
Haso mat mere humdard, mere doston,
Chalees minit ki baath-cheeth hoti hai roz beech un dono ki.
Pooch rahi thi us din kisi guzarti bhains ko -
Kaali thi bhains sab bhains jaisi -
Pata nahin biwi pehchaan kaise leti hai sabko,
Hogi rishtedaar kisi na kisi janam ki.
'Tumhaari maa kaisi hai, tumhaare bacche kaise hai,
Tumhaara khaandaan kya hai theek thaak?'
Utsukta se biwi pooch na rahee thee aangan se,
Mundi hila rahi thi woh bhains sadak pe kya khaak?
Aisi jab humdardi hain un donon ke beech mein,
Aisi jab sahi salaamat hai yeh jodi,
Aisi jab hain pyaar aur mohabbat beech unke,
Markit nahin gaya tho kuchla jaaoonga thodi.
Shaayari ki ma-behn ho jaati hai,
Labz sil jaate hai kahi na kahi,
Par karoon tho main karoon kya,
Thoda muhje hai jaan pyaaree.
Sheher ke kone kone jasoos chipe hote hain,
Baat sunte rehthe hai kaalee bhains meri,
Kisi slim and trim item se baat karoon tho,
Khabar pahunch jaati hai Moti ko turanth hee.
Is mahol se bachaale eh Khuda,
Uthale meri biwi bhains ko jo hai pyaree,
Talaak tho nahin de sakta hoon usko,
'Bhains se shaadi' suna hai kabhi?"
Kasht hoga yeh kaam zara,
Badan dard hoga do teen mahine ki,
Par uthale mere sir se yeh bala,
Seh sakte tho aap hain, mai nahin."
Ustaad unke priy shishy Anmol miyaan ke oar dekhthe thoda muskurae, par Anmol miyaan bahot ro rahe the. Ustaad samjhe ki Anmol miyaan shayari mein bhare dard ke wajah se ro rahe the. Ustaad apne bhavanaon mein kho gaye. Unke man ke mehfil mein sainkdo log jamkar unke oopar phool barsa rahe the. Unke shoulder ke oopar leke jhoom rahi thi poori audience. Sab oar se "Wah wah!" ki goonj ho rahi thi, aur sainkdo, karoron logon ke naachne se dharti dham dham kar rahi thi. Ustad Charan Biryaanee Kha[n] jannat mein the, aur unke mooh par ek nanhi si ek haseen aayee.
Anmol miyaan jo ab tak apni phooti kismat ke oopar aansoon baha rahe the achanak "USTAAD BHAAGOOO!!!" chillakar bhaag gaye. Ustad Charan Biryaanee Kha[n] apne peeche mudkar dekhe tho sainkdo karoro bhains unka peecha karte huen bhaagke aa rahe the.
Ustaad Charan Biryanee Kha[n] Nehru gali mein jaate rahe ki achaanak unke priy shishy Anmol (jinka last name Ratan tha) ke oopar unki nazar pad gayi. Anmol miyaan coffee shop mein chaay peete kisi pustak mein doob mar rahe the (weh "doobe huen" nahin, "doob mar rahe the" kyoon ki unko pichle hafte heen Urdu ke akshar sikhaya gaya tha) aur isi liye Ustad ke aahat ko pehchaane nahin. Warna weh bhi chalaang marke...uh apni kadar dikha dete.
Ustaad unke back par ek slap karke, Anmol miyaan ke baaju bench pe bait gaye. Anmol miyaan ke hosh aate heen weh bhaagne ki koshish kee thee, par Ustad salaam ke bajaay jamke hug kar rahe the tho Anmol miyaan ko wapas bench par baitna pada. Unke sir par paseena nikalna shuru ho gaya. Unhone ek green rang ki ek rumaal nikaalke usko ponch dee.
Anmol miyaan Ustad ke shishy apne khushi se nahin, par apne Ma ki aakhri ichchaa poora karne ke liye unke shishy ban chuke the. Aap mujhe galat na samjhe - Anmol miyaan shayad Ustaad ke yahan phir bhi shiksha ke liye jaate. Shayad. Aur unke Ma ke maanasik santulan theek nahin hone ke baare mein saalon se khabar phehli thee. Weh jab bhi public mein dikhaai padte tho koi na koi unko paththar maar deta. Par Anmol miyaan shayad apne taraf se bhi Ustaad ke yaha shaamil ho sakte the. Shayad. Aur waise bhi Anmol miyaan ki kismat waise bhi phooti thee...
Apne heen wachan se bandhe hone ke wajah se, Anmol miyaan hichakte huen Ustad ke yahaan shishy ban gaye the. Jab bhi Ustaad ko dekhte tho Anmol miyaan ko apni Ma ki yaad, aur us dukh bhari pal (unke Ma ki gujarne ki, Ustaad ke yahaan shamil hone ki nahin) yaad aa jaata. Anmol miyaan apne paakit mein se ek batuwaa nikaalke, apne Ma ki ek gandi black and white tasveer ko nihaare. Unke Ma us tasveer mein phoot phoot ke has rahi thee. Anmol miyaan ke aankhon mein aansoon nikal aayee.
Ustad unse pooche: "Anmol miyaan, aap ro kyoon rahe hai? Roiye mat, us se kuch bhi hal nahin hota hai. Mujhse poochiye, main jaanta hoon majbooriyon ke baare mein. Maine isi ke baare mein ek shaayari bhi likh chuka hoon." Ustad wahin pause kiye, par Anmol miyaan kuch pooche nahin - woh apne ghum mein doobe hue the. Ustaad phir se try kiye - "Kya aap mere shayari sunenge?" Anmol miyaan apna sar "Nahin!" bolte huen hilaaye, par Ustad jaldi se nazar pher liye aur unke ishaaron ko ignore karte huen aage nikal pade. Anmol miyaan ke aansoon thoda aur mote ho gaye.
"Tho haazir hain...
Bhejthi hai hume sabji le aane ko,
Pehchaanti nahin hamari asli kaabilyat,
Batata, pyaas ke chakkar mein lage rahthe hai hum,
Hamaare haaton kat jaatee hain tamaatar sata sat.
Biwi hai hamaaree moti bhains jaisi,
Akal bhi utni hai, moti bhains ki jitni,
Haso mat mere humdard, mere doston,
Chalees minit ki baath-cheeth hoti hai roz beech un dono ki.
Pooch rahi thi us din kisi guzarti bhains ko -
Kaali thi bhains sab bhains jaisi -
Pata nahin biwi pehchaan kaise leti hai sabko,
Hogi rishtedaar kisi na kisi janam ki.
'Tumhaari maa kaisi hai, tumhaare bacche kaise hai,
Tumhaara khaandaan kya hai theek thaak?'
Utsukta se biwi pooch na rahee thee aangan se,
Mundi hila rahi thi woh bhains sadak pe kya khaak?
Aisi jab humdardi hain un donon ke beech mein,
Aisi jab sahi salaamat hai yeh jodi,
Aisi jab hain pyaar aur mohabbat beech unke,
Markit nahin gaya tho kuchla jaaoonga thodi.
Shaayari ki ma-behn ho jaati hai,
Labz sil jaate hai kahi na kahi,
Par karoon tho main karoon kya,
Thoda muhje hai jaan pyaaree.
Sheher ke kone kone jasoos chipe hote hain,
Baat sunte rehthe hai kaalee bhains meri,
Kisi slim and trim item se baat karoon tho,
Khabar pahunch jaati hai Moti ko turanth hee.
Is mahol se bachaale eh Khuda,
Uthale meri biwi bhains ko jo hai pyaree,
Talaak tho nahin de sakta hoon usko,
'Bhains se shaadi' suna hai kabhi?"
Kasht hoga yeh kaam zara,
Badan dard hoga do teen mahine ki,
Par uthale mere sir se yeh bala,
Seh sakte tho aap hain, mai nahin."
Ustaad unke priy shishy Anmol miyaan ke oar dekhthe thoda muskurae, par Anmol miyaan bahot ro rahe the. Ustaad samjhe ki Anmol miyaan shayari mein bhare dard ke wajah se ro rahe the. Ustaad apne bhavanaon mein kho gaye. Unke man ke mehfil mein sainkdo log jamkar unke oopar phool barsa rahe the. Unke shoulder ke oopar leke jhoom rahi thi poori audience. Sab oar se "Wah wah!" ki goonj ho rahi thi, aur sainkdo, karoron logon ke naachne se dharti dham dham kar rahi thi. Ustad Charan Biryaanee Kha[n] jannat mein the, aur unke mooh par ek nanhi si ek haseen aayee.
Anmol miyaan jo ab tak apni phooti kismat ke oopar aansoon baha rahe the achanak "USTAAD BHAAGOOO!!!" chillakar bhaag gaye. Ustad Charan Biryaanee Kha[n] apne peeche mudkar dekhe tho sainkdo karoro bhains unka peecha karte huen bhaagke aa rahe the.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
In the name of efficiency
Police around the world live in a paradox that is seemingly impossible to break - How does one stop crimes before they happen? Think about it, a crime is not a crime until it is committed, and a criminal isn't a criminal until he is proven guilty of the crime. Without the technology used by Tom Cruise in Minority Report, how does one prevent a crime from happening?
Police in the US and in many parts of the world use a technique called 'Profiling'. This technique requires a policeman to look out for criminals by matching visual profiles of a person with known offenders. Considering that the country's most underprivileged classes of people are either Black or Hispanic, this is usually what the police are looking for. But the problem with this system is obvious - the innocent Black and Hispanic American get caught in the middle and suffer quite a bit of inconvenience, leave alone the humiliation of belonging to a community that is largely responsible for committing the crimes. But why should the larger group have to suffer for the sake of the few (yes, by definition, criminals are the minority in any group).
The answer can probably be found in the way the Human Brain functions. Due to it's own inabilities, it organizes large bodies of information by grouping individual components together. Then, all it has to do is remember that Group A has certain characteristics and Group B has a certain different set of characteristics. If there are exceptions, they are automatically classified into a third group. By this method, the brain simply has to remember three different sets of characteristics rather than say, a hundred and fifty individual characteristics. This was the method that led primitive cavemen to remember that green fruits were not ripe and should not be eaten as they are usually bitter, whereas colored fruits were usually ripe and sweet.
You can observe kids doing this all the time. For them, everything around is new and needs to be explored. But there is a process to this exploration. They relate everything to what they already know, unless it is so out of the realm of their understanding, in which case they usually seek help from an adult who will break it down for them. I wouldn't be surprised if kids made sense of the two parents as equivalents with small differences. For instance, 'Dad' is simply 'Mom' without the high pitched voice. Or, an orange is an apple of a different color and different taste. And so on.
But what's funny is that we as adults do this all the time as well. We don't ever grow out of this habit. The rationale that's behind this is probably "It's been successful so far, why not now?" Whenever we run into something new, we usually try to relate it to something we have a good understanding of. I remember, when the Digital Diary revolution came around most people didn't know how to understand this new gadget. But advertising helped relate the new to the familiar. They posted advertisements everywhere saying things like "No more maintaining new calendars every year.", or "Recall a friends number more efficiently than your regular diary!" - at every step trying to associate the new gadget's capabilities with the old method of doing things. "It's the same, but much better!"
Most of us understand the people around us in the same way. We build groups of people and try to fit every new person we are introduced to, into one of these groups. At first the groups are broad such as "White", "Black", "Indian", "Tambi" or "Filipino". Then the groups become more and more refined such as "Student", "Geek" or "Chess Player". The better we get to know the person, the better refined his or her group is. This goes on until we hit a point where this person is the only one within that group called "Adrian" or "Aditya".
If we analyze all of the people we know, we will see that everyone is but a unique combination of a limitless set of characteristics. Genetics and the environment have shaped each one of them into a unique personality. So if this is the case, how right are we usually to start off with the broad classifications? By doing so, we are encouraging ourselves to proceed in the wrong direction in thinking about a person. As a survival mechanism, it's not very effective. Its fine if we do it for objects or concepts, but when it comes to people, we can go wrong. Very wrong. Police could end up terrorizing certain groups of people for just being Black or Hispanic. People could be denied jobs that they are perfectly qualified for because they are not good looking. Innocent people could be sentenced to death because, on the surface, they match the broad characteristics of murderers.
So why do we continue to use an inefficient method to live our lives? One answer provided by an anthropologist by the name of Robin Dunbar is that the human cortex has a limitation in its ability to maintain more than 147.8 (~150) individual profiles in the brain. This might seem like a small number but this actually translates to the brain understanding the relationships between you and each of the 150 people and their relationships between each other, which is in fact a very large number. This study is based on Dunbar's study of various indigenous cultures from the Walbiri of Australia to the Hutterite colonies (Similar to the Amish ;) ) who have each maintained the magical number of 150 as maximum population strengths because, past this they have experienced rifts within the colonies. This 150 is also the reason Graham Bell chose to use the 7 digit telephone number system. Its also the same reason for a combat group within the army to be limited to a max of 200 people even though we have better communication equipment now than ever before.
Though this offers an explanation of why it is so, I would like to argue that we as humans have evolved well past this point. We have new tools and technologies at our disposal. Why do we still behave the same way as the Hutterites? Why do we still use archaic and inaccurate methods of survival? We need a new strategy. We have to force ourselves not to classify people into groups but rather to strive to know each of them as individuals. We have to force our brains to organize differently. Though this seems far fetched, this is not the case because the brain very often reallocates other parts of the brain to take on the functions of any other part. We are very malleable. We have to take advantage of this aspect.
Any thoughts?
Police in the US and in many parts of the world use a technique called 'Profiling'. This technique requires a policeman to look out for criminals by matching visual profiles of a person with known offenders. Considering that the country's most underprivileged classes of people are either Black or Hispanic, this is usually what the police are looking for. But the problem with this system is obvious - the innocent Black and Hispanic American get caught in the middle and suffer quite a bit of inconvenience, leave alone the humiliation of belonging to a community that is largely responsible for committing the crimes. But why should the larger group have to suffer for the sake of the few (yes, by definition, criminals are the minority in any group).
The answer can probably be found in the way the Human Brain functions. Due to it's own inabilities, it organizes large bodies of information by grouping individual components together. Then, all it has to do is remember that Group A has certain characteristics and Group B has a certain different set of characteristics. If there are exceptions, they are automatically classified into a third group. By this method, the brain simply has to remember three different sets of characteristics rather than say, a hundred and fifty individual characteristics. This was the method that led primitive cavemen to remember that green fruits were not ripe and should not be eaten as they are usually bitter, whereas colored fruits were usually ripe and sweet.
You can observe kids doing this all the time. For them, everything around is new and needs to be explored. But there is a process to this exploration. They relate everything to what they already know, unless it is so out of the realm of their understanding, in which case they usually seek help from an adult who will break it down for them. I wouldn't be surprised if kids made sense of the two parents as equivalents with small differences. For instance, 'Dad' is simply 'Mom' without the high pitched voice. Or, an orange is an apple of a different color and different taste. And so on.
But what's funny is that we as adults do this all the time as well. We don't ever grow out of this habit. The rationale that's behind this is probably "It's been successful so far, why not now?" Whenever we run into something new, we usually try to relate it to something we have a good understanding of. I remember, when the Digital Diary revolution came around most people didn't know how to understand this new gadget. But advertising helped relate the new to the familiar. They posted advertisements everywhere saying things like "No more maintaining new calendars every year.", or "Recall a friends number more efficiently than your regular diary!" - at every step trying to associate the new gadget's capabilities with the old method of doing things. "It's the same, but much better!"
Most of us understand the people around us in the same way. We build groups of people and try to fit every new person we are introduced to, into one of these groups. At first the groups are broad such as "White", "Black", "Indian", "Tambi" or "Filipino". Then the groups become more and more refined such as "Student", "Geek" or "Chess Player". The better we get to know the person, the better refined his or her group is. This goes on until we hit a point where this person is the only one within that group called "Adrian" or "Aditya".
If we analyze all of the people we know, we will see that everyone is but a unique combination of a limitless set of characteristics. Genetics and the environment have shaped each one of them into a unique personality. So if this is the case, how right are we usually to start off with the broad classifications? By doing so, we are encouraging ourselves to proceed in the wrong direction in thinking about a person. As a survival mechanism, it's not very effective. Its fine if we do it for objects or concepts, but when it comes to people, we can go wrong. Very wrong. Police could end up terrorizing certain groups of people for just being Black or Hispanic. People could be denied jobs that they are perfectly qualified for because they are not good looking. Innocent people could be sentenced to death because, on the surface, they match the broad characteristics of murderers.
So why do we continue to use an inefficient method to live our lives? One answer provided by an anthropologist by the name of Robin Dunbar is that the human cortex has a limitation in its ability to maintain more than 147.8 (~150) individual profiles in the brain. This might seem like a small number but this actually translates to the brain understanding the relationships between you and each of the 150 people and their relationships between each other, which is in fact a very large number. This study is based on Dunbar's study of various indigenous cultures from the Walbiri of Australia to the Hutterite colonies (Similar to the Amish ;) ) who have each maintained the magical number of 150 as maximum population strengths because, past this they have experienced rifts within the colonies. This 150 is also the reason Graham Bell chose to use the 7 digit telephone number system. Its also the same reason for a combat group within the army to be limited to a max of 200 people even though we have better communication equipment now than ever before.
Though this offers an explanation of why it is so, I would like to argue that we as humans have evolved well past this point. We have new tools and technologies at our disposal. Why do we still behave the same way as the Hutterites? Why do we still use archaic and inaccurate methods of survival? We need a new strategy. We have to force ourselves not to classify people into groups but rather to strive to know each of them as individuals. We have to force our brains to organize differently. Though this seems far fetched, this is not the case because the brain very often reallocates other parts of the brain to take on the functions of any other part. We are very malleable. We have to take advantage of this aspect.
Any thoughts?
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Moments Captured: A New and Unique Concept
Guys, Mihir and I were talking about the movie and we thought of changing things around a little bit. I think it's a little early for our movie making team to actually jump out and start making a full-fledged movie, even if its a short one. We haven't graduated to that level and being a strong believer in climbing steps than leaping and hoping to make it, I suggest we take a different approach.
We came up with the idea of making a 30 minute short movie capturing those special moments - funny ones, touching ones, romantic ones, angry ones, etc. and shooting the entire thing and putting it together. The end product will be the movie in which there will be several of these moments shot. Each clip will have its own introduction and then the actual scene (single scene) acted out. Not only will this be unique but the movie could be shot in several steps in several styles and then pieced together in the form of the lives of 20-something-desi's.
I invite you all to contribute your own little special moments that you can think of. Please post them here as comments to this post and describe it in as much detail as possible. After we have received them from you, we will choose some of them (collectively) based on do-ability and begin shooting it.
Please contribute all moments no matter how insignificant you think they are. This is an experiment only.
We came up with the idea of making a 30 minute short movie capturing those special moments - funny ones, touching ones, romantic ones, angry ones, etc. and shooting the entire thing and putting it together. The end product will be the movie in which there will be several of these moments shot. Each clip will have its own introduction and then the actual scene (single scene) acted out. Not only will this be unique but the movie could be shot in several steps in several styles and then pieced together in the form of the lives of 20-something-desi's.
I invite you all to contribute your own little special moments that you can think of. Please post them here as comments to this post and describe it in as much detail as possible. After we have received them from you, we will choose some of them (collectively) based on do-ability and begin shooting it.
Please contribute all moments no matter how insignificant you think they are. This is an experiment only.
Monday, January 10, 2005
Blind Mole. Redux.
I like evolution. I like the way our genes are transferred imperfectly from generation to generation ironically to achieve a better adapted being. Just think about it, imperfections leading to perfection. It's amazing.
However, what we are provided with is what we experience the world around us with. Just as the blind mole believes that it exists in a world filled with smells, we try to understand the world with the five senses we have been provided. What if we actually need more senses to make full sense of the world but the evolutionary process has just not been able to get us there yet.
What's worse is that maybe some of us have been provided those genes that allow us to develop that sixth sense. But we have discarded that evolutionary leap and instead made efforts to fit in with everybody around us. Maybe we would understand what ghosts and spirits really are. Maybe we would be able to explain all the physical phenomenon that we have so far been unable to explain. Maybe we would no longer call those flying objects 'unidentified'. Maybe if we had more senses we would know that this world works with a fourth, fifth or sixth dimension.
But we have been blessed with faculties more powerful than any other being on earth - self consciousness, the ability to reason, logic and mathematics. Do these powers enable us to understand the truth of the world or are they simply allowing us to make sense of the world as we know it. In other words, would these powers enable us to discover the other qualities of the universe by bringing us out of our existing shells or do they impede our understanding by simply trying to haphazardly explain the world we live in?
Many of the theories and laws that we hold as hallowed truths are constantly being disputed by every new generation of thinkers and scientists who have new evidence to suggest that our current understanding of the world is flawed. The deeper understanding we develop of any field of study, the more unknowns we run into. Even Mathematics, a field of study we are proud to say is completely based on universal logic, cannot exist without crutches.Take for instance the imaginary number 'i', without which certain calculations in negative numbers is just plain impossible.
Is the body of knowledge we have accumulated since the dawn of consciousness of man taking us in a direction towards a better understanding of the universe or are we inserting imaginary numbers everywhere we run into things we cannot fathom so that we can believe we have a decent understanding of the world and gain some comfort in that almost baseless belief. Did we create the concept of 'God' in a similar effort?
My mind wanders and ponders these kinds of issues. I might be completely rambling and thinking with the wrong organ, but I thought I should put my thoughts down and let you guys offer your opinions and thereby help me make better sense of this world I don't fully understand. :)
However, what we are provided with is what we experience the world around us with. Just as the blind mole believes that it exists in a world filled with smells, we try to understand the world with the five senses we have been provided. What if we actually need more senses to make full sense of the world but the evolutionary process has just not been able to get us there yet.
What's worse is that maybe some of us have been provided those genes that allow us to develop that sixth sense. But we have discarded that evolutionary leap and instead made efforts to fit in with everybody around us. Maybe we would understand what ghosts and spirits really are. Maybe we would be able to explain all the physical phenomenon that we have so far been unable to explain. Maybe we would no longer call those flying objects 'unidentified'. Maybe if we had more senses we would know that this world works with a fourth, fifth or sixth dimension.
But we have been blessed with faculties more powerful than any other being on earth - self consciousness, the ability to reason, logic and mathematics. Do these powers enable us to understand the truth of the world or are they simply allowing us to make sense of the world as we know it. In other words, would these powers enable us to discover the other qualities of the universe by bringing us out of our existing shells or do they impede our understanding by simply trying to haphazardly explain the world we live in?
Many of the theories and laws that we hold as hallowed truths are constantly being disputed by every new generation of thinkers and scientists who have new evidence to suggest that our current understanding of the world is flawed. The deeper understanding we develop of any field of study, the more unknowns we run into. Even Mathematics, a field of study we are proud to say is completely based on universal logic, cannot exist without crutches.Take for instance the imaginary number 'i', without which certain calculations in negative numbers is just plain impossible.
Is the body of knowledge we have accumulated since the dawn of consciousness of man taking us in a direction towards a better understanding of the universe or are we inserting imaginary numbers everywhere we run into things we cannot fathom so that we can believe we have a decent understanding of the world and gain some comfort in that almost baseless belief. Did we create the concept of 'God' in a similar effort?
My mind wanders and ponders these kinds of issues. I might be completely rambling and thinking with the wrong organ, but I thought I should put my thoughts down and let you guys offer your opinions and thereby help me make better sense of this world I don't fully understand. :)
Saturday, January 08, 2005
What's it worth?
We walked hand in hand, on that slightly chilly fall evening. We took a slight detour towards the benches outside the museum as we were in no hurry to return home. It was a wonderful office party and even though she dreaded having to go back on Monday and see the same people again, we did have a good time. And it wasn't often that we had a real reason to dress up and look as good and as tipsy as we did.
"You look so cute with a bow tie. I could bite you right now!", she teased.
"If you like it that much I 'll wear it all the time from now on. You think this will look good with my 'Van Halen' T-Shirt?"
Much as it made me look like a waiter, I like the way I look in a tuxedo - gelled-back hair, sleek, black suit with a black satin lapel, a brilliant white shirt, gold cuff-links, wing-tipped oxfords and a bow tie. She was dressed in a black dress that accentuated her form, black heels, and a simple diamond solitaire pendant. It always surpised me that so little could make someone look so good. I was just considering how beautiful she looked, when she caught me.
"Eight years together, still not lost it, have I?", she said, nonchalant. I nodded my consent and held her closer.
People say that once you know what's in the package, you don't really care how it's wrapped, but this wasn't true for me. I knew who she really was from the inside. I had seen and experienced her realities, I had withstood her lies and I knew every one of her subtle expressions so well, that she could never play poker with me anymore. But this was what I cherished deep inside my heart. There were the precious things only I knew. Only I held her decoder ring.
Just then, we turned around a bend and almost walked into a man standing there. It was odd that he would be standing right around a corner on this lonely street. It occurred to me that we might be in trouble, but as correct as my deduction might have been, it was important for me to play the part and simply try to excuse myself and walk away.
"Excuse me, I didn't see you there. I almost walked into you and spilt your coffee. Sorry about that." Saying that, I tried to make our way around him when he put a step in my way.
Love, being an unquantifiable state or quality was a little confusing to an objective and logical man that I was. Therefore, in order to understand it better in the metrics I lived my life in, I had imagined the both of us in several situations of varying degrees of danger and my reactions in each of them.
For instance, if there was tree falling on us, I would push her out of the way and then try to save myself. If we were skiing together and I lost control and was heading towards her, I would just force myself to dive into the snow. If she was coming at me, I would take the hit and stop her before she ran into the trees.
But in case of a mugging, I had always thought that the mature and logical thing to do was to simply hand over the wallet as we could always make money another day. But I know that there are some really crazy people out there, so if the thug made any advances towards my wife, the weapon he was threatening us with would be used against him, be it at the risk of my loosing my life. It was all clearly laid out in my head. I had planned it out meticulously. I had considered that there would be a lot of adrenaline rushing through all of us. I would have to move slowly and always indicate what I was doing lest he thinks I am reaching for a weapon. I would hand over the wallet smoothly and cause no rush of any sort; tell him how much money there was and then simply ask him to leave us in a non-threatening way. Looking down at the ground all the time was important not only for the sake of assuming a non-threatening pose but to also indicate that I would not be able to identify him to the cops later on.
But I never wanted to put these things to the test. But here it was. So I just reacted the way I had always trained myself to do. Just as a soldier in a battle acts by instinct rather than by thinking, I quietly reached into my pocket for my wallet and handed it to him, told him there was four hundred dollars and that we simply wanted to leave without any trouble.
Having acted and delivered my line perfectly, I waited for the result. As nothing came for two seconds, I looked up to see a man with a quizzical expression on his face. He paused for a second, handed me my wallet back and said,
"What the hell have you been drinking? I am a detective of the PPD. This is a crime scene, you cannot walk this way. Take the next street over."
Mortified, I turned around to face her only to be met with that expression on her face that said, "I should have left you long ago!"
"You look so cute with a bow tie. I could bite you right now!", she teased.
"If you like it that much I 'll wear it all the time from now on. You think this will look good with my 'Van Halen' T-Shirt?"
Much as it made me look like a waiter, I like the way I look in a tuxedo - gelled-back hair, sleek, black suit with a black satin lapel, a brilliant white shirt, gold cuff-links, wing-tipped oxfords and a bow tie. She was dressed in a black dress that accentuated her form, black heels, and a simple diamond solitaire pendant. It always surpised me that so little could make someone look so good. I was just considering how beautiful she looked, when she caught me.
"Eight years together, still not lost it, have I?", she said, nonchalant. I nodded my consent and held her closer.
People say that once you know what's in the package, you don't really care how it's wrapped, but this wasn't true for me. I knew who she really was from the inside. I had seen and experienced her realities, I had withstood her lies and I knew every one of her subtle expressions so well, that she could never play poker with me anymore. But this was what I cherished deep inside my heart. There were the precious things only I knew. Only I held her decoder ring.
Just then, we turned around a bend and almost walked into a man standing there. It was odd that he would be standing right around a corner on this lonely street. It occurred to me that we might be in trouble, but as correct as my deduction might have been, it was important for me to play the part and simply try to excuse myself and walk away.
"Excuse me, I didn't see you there. I almost walked into you and spilt your coffee. Sorry about that." Saying that, I tried to make our way around him when he put a step in my way.
Love, being an unquantifiable state or quality was a little confusing to an objective and logical man that I was. Therefore, in order to understand it better in the metrics I lived my life in, I had imagined the both of us in several situations of varying degrees of danger and my reactions in each of them.
For instance, if there was tree falling on us, I would push her out of the way and then try to save myself. If we were skiing together and I lost control and was heading towards her, I would just force myself to dive into the snow. If she was coming at me, I would take the hit and stop her before she ran into the trees.
But in case of a mugging, I had always thought that the mature and logical thing to do was to simply hand over the wallet as we could always make money another day. But I know that there are some really crazy people out there, so if the thug made any advances towards my wife, the weapon he was threatening us with would be used against him, be it at the risk of my loosing my life. It was all clearly laid out in my head. I had planned it out meticulously. I had considered that there would be a lot of adrenaline rushing through all of us. I would have to move slowly and always indicate what I was doing lest he thinks I am reaching for a weapon. I would hand over the wallet smoothly and cause no rush of any sort; tell him how much money there was and then simply ask him to leave us in a non-threatening way. Looking down at the ground all the time was important not only for the sake of assuming a non-threatening pose but to also indicate that I would not be able to identify him to the cops later on.
But I never wanted to put these things to the test. But here it was. So I just reacted the way I had always trained myself to do. Just as a soldier in a battle acts by instinct rather than by thinking, I quietly reached into my pocket for my wallet and handed it to him, told him there was four hundred dollars and that we simply wanted to leave without any trouble.
Having acted and delivered my line perfectly, I waited for the result. As nothing came for two seconds, I looked up to see a man with a quizzical expression on his face. He paused for a second, handed me my wallet back and said,
"What the hell have you been drinking? I am a detective of the PPD. This is a crime scene, you cannot walk this way. Take the next street over."
Mortified, I turned around to face her only to be met with that expression on her face that said, "I should have left you long ago!"
Friday, January 07, 2005
Chalne ke pehle tanik dekhke payr rakhiye!
Mehfil bhari huin thi, shaam jawaan tha. Ustad abhi tak laapata the, par sab logon ke cheron par muskuraahat tha. Isthihaar kaiee dinon se, sheher ke kone kone pe lagaaye gaye hone se ek bhi tashreef khaali nahin tha. Ha, aur Ustad Charan Biryaanee Khaan bhi bahot mashoor the!
Usi bhari mehfil mein ek nawjawaan apne katore leke logon ko sabjiyaan bechte huen nikal raha tha. Usi waqt duniyaan ke mashoor, Lahore ke Shahensha, Laapata gali ki noor-e-taj, Ustad Charan Biryaanee Khaan stage pe padhaare. Logon ke chehre pe se muskaan hat gaya; uh, itni kadar thi unke liye!
Ustad mike uthaaye, aur logon mein hulchal ho gayi.
“Huzoor, mujhe maarne deejiye!” log bol…uh….nahin rahe the!
Kuch daer baad, sab log chup ho gaye, aur Ustad Charan Biryaanee Khaan ke labzon se motiyaan girne lage:
“Arz hai…”
“Wah wah! Huzoor, wah wah!”
Ustad apne priy shishy ko ek do second dekhe; shishy paan chaba rahe the.
“Arz hai.”
“Wah wah! Huzoor, wah…”
“Chupbe!”
Ha, tho Ustad keh rahe the:
“Taron ko koste ho tum…”
“Ustad woh last week ho gaya!”
Ustad kuch has kar bole, “Puraani hai!”
Koi peeche se bola, “Tho naya waala ugal saale!” Woh janaab unke behnoi the.
Ustad phir se has kar aage badhe:
“Arz hai:
Arre o sabjee bechne waale,
Gujarte ho tum uss galiyon mein,”
Ruk kar, effect ke liye phirse arz kiye:
“Abbe o sabjee bechne waale,
Gujarte ho tum uss galiyon mein,
Jahaan tamaatar ki zaroorat hai,
Par hai paayz tumhaare taraazoo mein.”
Ustad tanik turn karke apne shishy ko nihaare. Woh chup rehke paan chabaa rahe the. Thoda bahot bhaawuk hoke Ustad aage nikle:
“Himmat hain tere dil mein,
Kaabil hai tere haat,
Atthanni hai tere paaket mein,
Moti hai tere dimaak”
Ustad phir se apne sishy ko nihaare. Woh paan chabaa rahe the.
“Karoon tho karoon kya,
Boloon tho boloon kya?
Mere labj hai tujpe zaaya,
Boloonga tho samjhegi sirf meri aaya.”
Ustad apne shishy ko nahin nihaarte hue aage badhe.
“Rakhkhon apne paas jo log chaahe,
Bechonge tum jyaada,
Par karte ho tum jo man chaahe,
Rahoge tum bhikaari saala.
Meri baat maan,
Bechdo, behn-chod, apni gaadi,
Sabji mandi chod de,
Ghar waapas jaon, niklo abhi.
Tera kuch nahin hone waala,
Tu rahega sirf bhikaari,
Saale ja mar,
Jaakar kaheen.”
Unki shaayari khatam hote hee Ustaad apne sar jhukaake, mehfil ke sajjanon se aadaab kiye. Logon mein tehelka mach gaya. Ek ke oopar ek uchal rahe the. Koi kursi pe khada hua tha tho, koi mej pe. Ek ke baad ek Ustaad pe thu thu karke tamaatar phenkne lage. Tamaatr ki barsaat ho rahi thi – gande badbudaar tamaatar. Par, usme, ek bhi pyaas nahin tha.
Peeche, darwaaje ke baajoon mein, ek sajjan notein gin rahe the. Unke mooh pe ek delicate muskaan saja hua tha.
Aadaab huzoor.
Usi bhari mehfil mein ek nawjawaan apne katore leke logon ko sabjiyaan bechte huen nikal raha tha. Usi waqt duniyaan ke mashoor, Lahore ke Shahensha, Laapata gali ki noor-e-taj, Ustad Charan Biryaanee Khaan stage pe padhaare. Logon ke chehre pe se muskaan hat gaya; uh, itni kadar thi unke liye!
Ustad mike uthaaye, aur logon mein hulchal ho gayi.
“Huzoor, mujhe maarne deejiye!” log bol…uh….nahin rahe the!
Kuch daer baad, sab log chup ho gaye, aur Ustad Charan Biryaanee Khaan ke labzon se motiyaan girne lage:
“Arz hai…”
“Wah wah! Huzoor, wah wah!”
Ustad apne priy shishy ko ek do second dekhe; shishy paan chaba rahe the.
“Arz hai.”
“Wah wah! Huzoor, wah…”
“Chupbe!”
Ha, tho Ustad keh rahe the:
“Taron ko koste ho tum…”
“Ustad woh last week ho gaya!”
Ustad kuch has kar bole, “Puraani hai!”
Koi peeche se bola, “Tho naya waala ugal saale!” Woh janaab unke behnoi the.
Ustad phir se has kar aage badhe:
“Arz hai:
Arre o sabjee bechne waale,
Gujarte ho tum uss galiyon mein,”
Ruk kar, effect ke liye phirse arz kiye:
“Abbe o sabjee bechne waale,
Gujarte ho tum uss galiyon mein,
Jahaan tamaatar ki zaroorat hai,
Par hai paayz tumhaare taraazoo mein.”
Ustad tanik turn karke apne shishy ko nihaare. Woh chup rehke paan chabaa rahe the. Thoda bahot bhaawuk hoke Ustad aage nikle:
“Himmat hain tere dil mein,
Kaabil hai tere haat,
Atthanni hai tere paaket mein,
Moti hai tere dimaak”
Ustad phir se apne sishy ko nihaare. Woh paan chabaa rahe the.
“Karoon tho karoon kya,
Boloon tho boloon kya?
Mere labj hai tujpe zaaya,
Boloonga tho samjhegi sirf meri aaya.”
Ustad apne shishy ko nahin nihaarte hue aage badhe.
“Rakhkhon apne paas jo log chaahe,
Bechonge tum jyaada,
Par karte ho tum jo man chaahe,
Rahoge tum bhikaari saala.
Meri baat maan,
Bechdo, behn-chod, apni gaadi,
Sabji mandi chod de,
Ghar waapas jaon, niklo abhi.
Tera kuch nahin hone waala,
Tu rahega sirf bhikaari,
Saale ja mar,
Jaakar kaheen.”
Unki shaayari khatam hote hee Ustaad apne sar jhukaake, mehfil ke sajjanon se aadaab kiye. Logon mein tehelka mach gaya. Ek ke oopar ek uchal rahe the. Koi kursi pe khada hua tha tho, koi mej pe. Ek ke baad ek Ustaad pe thu thu karke tamaatar phenkne lage. Tamaatr ki barsaat ho rahi thi – gande badbudaar tamaatar. Par, usme, ek bhi pyaas nahin tha.
Peeche, darwaaje ke baajoon mein, ek sajjan notein gin rahe the. Unke mooh pe ek delicate muskaan saja hua tha.
Aadaab huzoor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)