FUNKY PEN

How complex can pain be? How multi layered can a deep shock be? ... How would you analyse the psychology behind loss... How can we go behind the curtains and erase few chaotic and cathartic scenes and reminiscences of a day we wish to forget ... is it possible, to tame the mind a veritable - yet veiled monster? Or are we as humans - destined to drift in utter helplessness from canoe to canoe, enduring the pain that any person or nameless animal once born must endure... never rid of the cycling from being born to the loss of death and enduring its never questioned permanence... Or is death and tragedy - a small cortex in the brain activated by shock and then numbed by time.. or a series of alternative realities suggested by well meaning but less affected others... Is life a never ending passage of time sewn together with the same smiling faces, who can leave us at any time... leaving us to question our mortality or birth.. and seek refuge in the other world, to continue to liv...

धूप सी पड़ी तो कमज़ोर पड़ गए वह बुलंद ख्याल बेमाहॉल पड़ गए बंद कमरे में रौशनी से चिलमिला गए इन रातों की शायरी से जगमगा गए शहरयार ने जो समां बंधा साहिल में बह गए। शहरों की हड़बड़ी में घुल के रह गए इस रात का जलज़ा ओढ़ा तो नहीं था सुबह की नर्मियों में मोमबत्तियों से बह गए

मोहर को स्याही मिल जाये  शोहर को दिलकशी  ज़िन्दगी में इससे यादगार कोई समां नहीं  क्यों चंद्र बिंदु में चंद्र खिलता है ? क्यों मुकम्मल जहाँ नहीं मिलता है ? किसी का वास्ता हो तो... किसी की खबर नहीं  खबर नहीं  शब् में गुलाब खिल जायेंगे  रातों रातों ख़िताब मिल जायेंगे  पर जब तुम्हे ढूंढा  तिनके तिनके को तुम्हारी खबर नहीं खबर नहीं  विश्वास न करें, तकल्लुफ में ना पड़ें  हमें मुलाकात का सबर नहीं, सबर नहीं   

आज फिर पीले फूल लेके आयी हो तुम माना मोहब्बत नहीं मुमकिन, पर दिलकशी तो है उम्र नहीं  है अब तुम्हारी या मेरी आशिकी तो है, पर आशिकी तो है पर्दानशीं ये चेहरा तुम्हारा सलाम ऐ इश्क़ ये रुतबा तुम्हारा स्याही काली करने की नौबत आ गयी दिल को छुआ जब ये नगमा तुम्हारा क्या करें धीरे धीरे क्या कहें धीरे धीरे बन रहा सा तो है ताजमहल हमारा

Friendships can wither, Coffee can grown cold. Neither of us can grow younger, neither of us old. Ink can dry up, nibs can break. Messages can become shorter, stories untold. Heart beats can be quietened. Reflex bottled down. Words don't help when memories grow mold. No flight can take you to your dream destination, Life is unfair - we have no hold.

Is humanity becoming more perfect by choice? Or are we becoming slaves to algorithm driven recommendation engines which our own employers are creating. Are relationships an outcome of our true minds or a social by-product to fill the revenue graphs of few chosen corporate companies.  Are we being driven to different revenue streams- like goats to an abattoir? – some of us to a perfect picture of youth, some to a new mid-life re-invention, some to understanding life and its purpose, and yet others to the path of being: super humans. Super humans- without flaws, with perfect relationships, perfect manicured nails, knowledge about each and every “bit and byte” of the universe and Fit bit and i watches to flash diet and fitness regimens. Whatever is your concern/or shortcoming – social media will hypnotize you towards it. Big daddy’s like google are actually reverse engineering our minds, suggesting, cross-validating, providing solutions to questions that never existed...

Falling down the shaft of regret. Activating memories, stories sublet. One reason to another, one season to the other. One cobweb has faded, another one to embed. Charcoal are my eyes, my lips parched dry. Fury and ferocity, the feelings I bed. Questions like crumbs follow my trail. Forget for a moment, but a new regret. Blizzards of artifacts, clouded facts, some convincing, some hard to get. Clinical perfection, exposed reels, beauty in extremes, ripped seams. Powder is my snow, always clouded, rain and sleet, my vision shrouded. Walk two steps, you become unknown, every night - every tone, a sonnet I have read. Moving on – a mountain approached, Rubik cubes ---twisted prose. Spider logic, frozen words, sheets of questions, remember or forget.

Priya- When nightfall came today; I touched your heart. A tear of delight, I have shed for you tonight. To the vivid happy memories, you have captured my heart ‘right’.  When weathers grew gloomy you were my companion, I miss you now without you, there will be no rain this season.  Expressions – your’s were vivid, your life - my journey finite.  But now the moon has disappeared and taken with you – its light. The sun will rise tomorrow but there will be no you to hold.  An empty lap – I will cradle, my hands in prayer fold. Konika memories rising, no reel to develop now. No crowd, no audiences, no manual to deal with the “how”. A pain to further conceal, mightier than the bees I reap. Relationships so tender, shards the heart will feel. Bestow god’s choicest blessings, as I have a soul to give. Sweetest than the sweat pea’s fragrance, open heaven’s gates for her to live.

रंजिश ए काश्मीर हम ने नहीं कहा मिलना नहीं होगा रंजिश होगी रहेगी , मगर पर्दा होगा आखिरी समय तक अंजाम नहीं मिलता कहीं खोया हुआ नाम नहीं मिलता समय सरपट दौड़ा खड़े रहे हम या फिर बारिश हो रही थी थमे रहे हम बढे नहीं आगे - मगर तुम्हे देखा कब कहीं मुलाकात लिखी थी यही यक़ीन से सोचा पर हक़ीक़त का ज़ुल्म अलग ही था आका बदल दिया मन को , फज़ल है ये भांपा अदालत में खड़े थे मुकदमा लड़ रहे थे भनक भी न थी ख़तम हो गयी कारवाही अपने आप को लाख दी दुहाई पर मिटटी में जो दबा दिया जाता है वह कभी उभर नहीं आता "वफ़ात" की कोई हद नहीं होती जलाज़े का कोई इल्म नहीं आता 

The scarf has been picked up... Black and White, two shades of life, alive and dead, It's adorned with fondness... Rattled, as it left its resting place, from a quiet repose to an airless room. Now regretful, with its utter silence. Resting in a corner, never washed, rife with "red apple orchards" of emotions, preserved like - jam. In essence a remnant of a burning man. Quiet, in only his silence, His delicate relics now rest with us. A frame untouched by time, a mirror cracked by distance, a sharp reaper - enlivened by the new master's touch - whom it will serve from now. The care, the regret, the imminent anger, the cloud burst, the regard, the emotion, They have all travelled in the personal artifacts and now rest heavy in our hand. Sumbal is far, yet - a feather touch away. Memories will wait for another day.

A new year, supposing a new post, Hackneyed - yet but necessary - definitely A pen, a rose, a post, all have the same effect - de-burdening the mind and the body, Whipping up a fresh cream of motion, a surgery elevating inner onion layers of emotions. Bursting for acceptability and yet reserved - with their vulnerability. The mind trusting inner instincts, and yet lying like a python in wait, sharp and reclusive. Revelations, are un touched and rare, raw black diamonds un-mined. Sharp shards await, fluffy white innocence, such is the heart and mind. Pick up a coffee and move, New York like practicality sometimes, Andaman like deep sea reveries sometimes, Some wheels to be changed, some to be accepted rusted, Yet a part of me, I can not leave behind. Untimed, un-met, un-believed. Not funny, not friendly, not kind, life normalised.

Social Media - the Mindless animal, a sharp beast or a human ageing agent? Zukerberg's trials and trepidations are not unknown to the world now, his own device which had made him a "hostel hero" and then a world magnet has got him crushing down to his feet, begging for forgiveness and meekly accepting the blame for his own grand failures. Isn't it funny that today, social or the web can transform an unknown individual into an icon and then transform an icon back into an infamous villain. Be it Chanda K or Zukerberg, or our jewel thief (figuratively) Nirav Modi everyone has risen and fallen on the web. I remember reading Chanda K's article on how she balances her home and the bank, and is there on every family occasion (I often wondered how, when even I with my near modest take home - I can not guarantee my presence everywhere and often have to cut a sorry figure at functions :) ). The same platforms built her image and now have completely destroyed it - ...

Mukti Bhawan -  A rare sanctum of satire This is not a hapless movie which talks about the esoteric concept of "passing on". Pun intended, this is a glorious movie emphasizing the importance of having lived well. Mukti Bhawan - a paradise for those wanting to die in the arms of god, is merely symbolic of how much an individual wants to control his destiny, he wants to live for a particular time and when he feels the time is over, wishes to pass on... destiny can not be controlled, and the number of days one has to spend in the world is type written and passed on to every person, he has no wish or command over his own breath. Lalit Behl is symbolic of a "free man" a man who enjoys his life superbly and lives it on his own terms, like grand father like grand daughter, both are dancing spirits, happy in the worldly matters of life. Rajiv actually symbolises "death" in his current life, over burdened and jostling to everyone's tune, right from h...

हो सकता है फिर न मिलें हो सकता है हमराही बने बिखरे बिम्ब जोड़ें हो सकता है। हो सकता है. जब छोड़ा है हमने किसी को तो उसका एक अक्स लहू में छूटा है मुझे पता नहीं पर क्या तुम्हारा जीवन भी झूठा है ? रोज़ उठके नहीं सोचा ये ज़िन्दगी काबुल नहीं ? पर तुम्हे गैर की क्या, तुम्हे तो खुद की फ़िक्र नहीं ज़िंदगी  पर जो लोग भरोसा करते है, ज़िन्दगी उनसे रूठ जाती है कब्र सा जीवन और बेरहम मौत दे जाती है पर हाँ  हम तो उन्ही मे से है, जिन्हे ज़िंदगी कही छोड़ गयी रौशनी दी फिर यकायक सूरज बुझा के ले गयी अरे कहाँ अपने आप को ढूंढते ओ, आइना रूठ  गया तुमसे, तुम्हारा प्रतिबिम्ब कहीं खो गया नायक के रूप का शोषण किया है तुमने, तुम्हारा बदन चिलमिलता है, प्राण नहीं है तुम में, तुममें लहू नहीं है , सिर्फ जल समता है, तेज़ाब से लिखा हुआ एक और जनम तुम्हे बुलाता है, बरखत श्वास की सिसकी भर लो,  बहुत लम्बा अभी हमरा  नाता है

Bahut dino badd pakdi hae kalam, kari kalli seyahii, Daag deke hee niklegi, maili, bhar ayii.. shuruat kidhar se ho, anjan hae woh aisi, dilon ko chire, ya bikhere muskurahaten nayi jaisi, chipen hue hae dil ke kuch pehlu, nikal aye agar woh, kalee lahu si bhar jayegi, royegi ye seyahi, bahut dino badd pakdi hae kalam., kari kalli seyahi.

"Grey, Gloomy, Beautiful" - Rain drops ashore. Milestones a-plenty, beauty so pure. Buzz in the air, Carnivals may-fair; Victoria Alberts,

I’ve never really been a dancer... Always the singer, being forcefully :(..Kind of... classically trained since donkey's ages, hiding behind exercise machines when my music teacher came, and memorizing raag bhopali, dhrupad, xyz, etc etc. with a rather wistful expression. Dance really began, when I once understood what a looser I was at it, in some party in my childhood, those childhood memories and complexes never really go...they become a part of you and creep into your being...morphing into deep resolve. Well then there was no turning back, when I realized I can’t even move one step forward and backward at age 11, i decided to become a student and teacher of dance both- of course to myself, no one else would accept me.. Life moved on, I started as the bathroom or rather closed room dancer, then joined shiamak dawar after my boards, hoping at attaining some fantastic prowess at this noble hobby, but all i got was the steps of one song - let’s get loud, which we practiced ...

Har admi marketing ka halwa bana ke dusre ke halak mein dale ja raha hae … Bura haal hae… Marketing is certainly not what it wanted to be, today if you measure marketing on its own brand prism, it would indeed lie defeated on all counts. Every 1 person enterprise has a marketing budget these days, translated as money spent on consumer nuisance and harassment. As if it’s not boring enough to be serenaded by Irfan’s dull as ditch water middle aged act every few minutes on TV, courtesy Vodafone, we have to bear inane ads linking things like soap with Vishwas and Bharosa. What the hell has bharosa got to do with a standard consumer durable like soap?? Is the emotional pull even required?? I am quite happy if my soap smells good .. and thank god for that. Does a consumer really buy more if an Aggarbatti promises to invoke god? Or if a Galaxy tab can help sketch some man with a tap running on his head? Does it all really account to more sales or just more NOISE? Leave apart the insaneness of...

BEING THE PREFERRED HIRE … How on earth can you make yourself the most preferred hire? Someone who literally has the recruiters hounding them and the offers flowing?? Here is some advice… stand for your brand.. But first learn how to create it. Personally and professionally I have heard a lot about personal branding, what is it? What can be done with it? And how can it benefit you in this area. Few things I have gained from my experience: Branding yourself as the employee whom companies want: To be an employee who is a brand, focus on: > Role > Skill > Industry Remember all 3 are important. Look at your role and try and go deeper in it, then concentrate on your key skills and try and improve upon them. And then finally target the industry of your choice and know how it is shaping up and gain knowledge in that area. Try to be an SME of your area and try to make it your goal to excel and add value to the industry you are in and the principle you specialize ...

FUNKY PEN: Jaipur Sojourn : "Can a city really capture someone and hold them so close that they don't feel like leaving? It happens,sometimes.. This is a humble city bu..."