The evening lights in Delhi were getting switched on one by one. Rakesh had spent the entire Saturday on his desk, thinking, he was lost for some reason not known to him. He decided to go out, but very unlike him, he chose to go alone, not talking along any of his friends, like every year during durga puja.

Driving slowly on his bike he felt the first chill of winter air on his face, pandals passing by, and people dressed in their best enjoying the festivities. The sound of dhaak playing in the background, he thought was making the entire setting utterly romantic.

Romantic, he suddenly stopped! He felt happy to have found another meaning of the word, it was a feeling free from any - one relationship, it could be any where, and it could be within. While he was defining new meanings and finding a few answers to unknown questions, he didn’t realize that he had turned towards the busy Cannaught Place, for once though he enjoyed the frenzied chaos of the heart of Delhi.

He turned his bike towards that lane he had heard a lot about, but had never dared to enter, it was a part of many jokes and fantasies, he was in Delhi’s red light area.

Like a shopper unknown of the brands shopping purely on the feel, he stopped infront of a Sign that said ‘Seven Star Paradise’. As he parked the bike rather casually on the road side and looked up at the neon light which read the name of the place, he wondered why it was written in blue and not in red. Choosing not to scratch his brain more on the color, with an already fast pumping heart he took the first step of a rather steep staircase. There was a pattern in the place; everything there belonged to the place, nothing out of place. It was an extremely peaceful setting, very few would agree, but Rakesh was feeling it with every step he took.

The stairs opened into a cramped dimly lit verandah full of girls dressed in atrocious attires and loud make-ups. He wondered how any one of them actually looked without that make-up, he had no clue. He had come to a brothel for the very first time in his life, yet he was not intimidated, but he wasn’t sure, and Monalisa could see it. As he walked past them one by one, he did not know what to do, Monalisa suddenly took him by his hand and led him to a gallery which had a row of tiny doors on one side and a noisy sprinkler of an Ice-cream factory on another side. He again felt romance, and he smiled at the idea. He didn’t feel awkward about being led into a room not more than the size of his bathroom, by an unknown girl. The last time something like that happened to him was in Palika Bazar, where a shop keeper wanted to sell him pirated CDs.

Monalisa switched on a single small bulb in the room. It was a rectangular room, probably five by eight in size, no windows, the only two openings were a small door, Rakesh had to duck under it to enter, and a small exhaust fan on the opposite wall. The layers of paint on the walls were peeling off and it looked like it was painted not less than a decade ago. It had only three pieces of furniture, a small bed, a chair, and a scary looking pedestal fan. But strangely it smelled of a very expensive perfume.

‘Ye khushboo kahan se aa rahi hai’, Rakesh said.

Monalisa smiled and said, ‘Maine lagaya hua hai, Cannaught Place se khareeda tha, Ralph Lauren’

‘Tum Ralph Lauren ka perfume lagati ho to yahan kyun rehti ho?’ Rakesh asked.

‘Tum mera, interview lene aaye ho?’ she giggled.

Rakesh felt stupid to have asked the question.

‘So!’ Monalisa said fixing her eyes on Rakesh. He felt nervous for the first time and didn’t know what to say.

‘Pehli baar aaye ho?’ she asked, to which Rakesh said, yes. She asked back, ‘kyun?’ Rakesh retorted, ‘tum mera interview lena chahti ho?’ and they burst into laughter.

Rakesh was standing all this while, and Monalisa was sitting comfortably in the chair, she stood up, brushed past Rakesh to close the door at his back.

‘Yahan hansne pe koi rok hai kya?’ Rakesh questioned.

‘Yahan kisi cheez pe koi rok nahi hai, yahan hum wo karte hain jo humara mann chahta hai!’ Monalisa replied with a confident smile that made Rakesh jealous. He didn’t know how true that statement was but he didn’t feel too good about his own status.

She went back and sat again, ‘khade kyun ho, jaldi hai kya?’ she asked. ‘Nahi’, and he sat at the edge of the bed, he felt a thin mattress under him. ‘Tumhara naam kya hai’, Rakesh asked. ‘Monalisa’, she said. ‘Tumhara?’, ‘Rakesh’, he answered.

‘Tum Monalisa jaisi bilkul bhi nahi lagti’, Rakesh said, thinking the name didn’t suit a girl in such a profession though he felt stupid about the entire thought later on.

‘To kaisi lagti hoon? Champa jaisi?’ she queried back. ‘Aur kaisi hoti hain Monalisa waise?’

He was shocked at the counter question, not by the way she retorted but by the sense of awareness in her, about who she is, where she is and what she does. He felt respect for her, and thus chose to keep quiet. His eyes in the meanwhile surveyed her all over, in a way he had never done ever before. She was wearing an orange color salwar kameez, without a dupatta, she was wearing far lesser make-up than the other girls he noticed outside. She was not beautiful, he felt, but had some attraction, may be it was her eyes. She had beautiful eyes, Rakesh felt.

She got up again to switch on the fan; it was a noisy pedestal fan, very aptly branded ‘farratta’ right in the middle of the front grill. He got his first chance of looking at her, without her staring back in reply. She turned and stood right infront of his face. He looked up, startled; she kept her hands on his shoulder and said ‘sirf baatein karoge?’ He suddenly felt bad about the idea of going there; he was enjoying the conversation, but acknowledged that it’s her job. He really felt bad now.

The next thirty minutes, Monalisa & Rakesh, spent on that small bed barely accommodating the two bodies, into each other. All this while Rakesh’s mind kept judging Monalisa, she had given herself completely to him, he felt really strange at that. The submission was beyond comprehension for him. He wondered if she did that to all men, or she liked him.

The feel of body head and rattling music of the fan reminded him again of romance. He felt love for her; he smiled at it, and kissed her for the first time. She smiled back and said ‘english style!’, he looked at her startled by the comment and kissed again. Rakesh was reminded of his girl friend; he had a break-up a year ago. He wondered what reminded him of Shivani.

‘Kahan kho gaye?’ Monalisa asked Rakesh, almost like waking him up. ‘Eh, kuch nahi yahin hoon’, he stood up, took a full view of her naked body for the first time. He felt unsettled. Dressing up he reached for his wallet, Monalisa, got up, not caring to dress up, held his hand and said, ‘you needn’t pay’. When he insisted to pay, she said, ‘sometimes I have fun too’ and giggled. Rakesh was shocked at hearing her speak English so fluently. He was about to ask her when she kissed him, and hugged him, he felt a tear in his eyes, which he very smartly wiped off. He didn’t know why he got that tear. Rakesh sat on the chair while Monalisa dressed herself; he wanted to ask so many things but did not know how. She opened the door, and left. Rakesh kept sitting there for a while; he thought she would probably come back. Another couple came in sometime and he was asked to leave. He got up wondering where she disappeared.

Rakesh did not ask anyone about her, and came straight out of Seven Star Paradise. On to the road, the air felt chiller than before, he took a deep breath of fresh air and started his bike. Till the end of the turn he kept looking at the Seven Star Paradise in the rear view mirror.

It’s been a long long time
What has changed?

1. I don’t write the diary anymore, but I buy one every year.
2. I have a lot to say, a lot more than ever before, but I don’t seem to love myself as much I did before. I know that’s tough to explain but that’s what it is.
3. I don’t seem to read anymore, though my thirst for reading and knowing about the world has increased, much more than ever before, I still don’t read, but I do buy books.
4. I feel emotional and nostalgic about things, places, people, but I have no association with them any more and I am not trying hard enough.
5. I keep having humble realizations about myself everyday, that gives me peace, but I haven’t slept well for a long time.
6. I realized that I have no fantasies of being an inventor, I am happy being a discoverer, but the kick off is taking far too long.
7. I tried loving the world, but the world doesn’t love me the way it used, it’s been a long time now.
8. While I was reminiscing in the memories of my past, of the awards and glory, of the tough times and learning, a girl was taking her dying father on a rickshaw, she didn’t have tears in her eyes, just hollowness.
9. I never thought before that the city did not have space, now I find it hard looking for space, my space is no more.
10. I have started enjoying the little things, the little things now are not the little things of then, yet little is still big, it still satisfies; it still makes me feel good.
11. I loose temper, I don’t have the same commitment, I don’t remember things, and my to-do list never ends because I never do anything.
12. People don’t pick up calls, answer texts or reply to chats, I am no different.
13. I don’t feel bad about talking business.
14. I don’t want to befriend all, yet I don’t like not being one.

It’s been a really long time, and I wrote all of this, it seems that it has been ages since I started to write.

Life doesn’t have that too many spells of such ‘long times’, I know this, my discoveries are waiting, I have to pack my bags and catch the train.

Come be a part of my journey, coz I don’t like to travel alone.

This is something that I always wanted to write about, ever since I heard the song Piya Haji Ali, and that was about the energy that these songs and places of worship (read ‘faith’) have. I went to haji ali just today and it was heart warming to see the kind of faith people have in it. After all that happend in front of J W Marriott on new years eve, I was disgusted by the way that we have lived so far and continue to live, of how rotten our society has become, and how we have lost all manliness to baser instincts. But places like these renew my faith, there is still a belief in this world that there is some one All Powerful above us, and He watches us, if He can help us when we need Him, He can also punish us. But am I getting swayed, are these two linked at all? I think I am getting swayed, those who come to places like this, are the needy, and those who are turned blind by the sin, have nothing to do with this. They continue to live on and create miseries for the world. Is He watching? The energy that I felt at Haji Ali do people feel that? Does that hit them, the way it hits me? Is there a story which people also see in this, I dont know! But still I am sure of oen fact that this faith binds most of us, or otherwise this world would have been full of animals. I dont know why I am confused today, all the time I was at the dargah I kept thinking about the New Year’s incident. I felt the energy but I felt the pain…

I wonder what took me so long to come to this topic, because if ever there is anything that haunts me, it is the so called middle class. Innumerable times I have been proud of my association of being middle class, of being rooted, of not giving up, of not forgetting where I come from and what I stand for. I love being middle class. But what is middle class? Is it being brought up in a middle class household, or is it really a way of thinking. I believe middle class is a school of thought; it is a way of living, the way I live, and the way so many of my friends live and so many Indians live. Am I going to graduate from this, I don’t think so! I love being this way. Of whatever little I have seen of other classes I have been disgusted by the way they think, behave and act. Right or wrong I am too inexperienced to judge but certainly not the way I want to live my life. I still find it uncomfortable getting anywhere into the domain of being hip. Its not me and I find it awkward being anyone else, be it as trivial as the use of word fuck as liberally as some of the others, or something as serious (or not serious at all) as Sex. What hurts, perplexes, and especially annoys me is the fact that people who are a part of a so called rich class or urban class, they have little understanding of us, and hence they look down upon us. As I write all this, I see instances and images in my mind which I would like to site as examples here, but I don’t write to vent my grudge, I write because I will feel light after it.
There are so many things that I associate with this topic and progressing in life is just one of them. Having the privilege of quality of education where do I go from here, ten years down the line, will I still be middle class? I do aspire to be a part of the rich and famous, in better words successful. But will I be able to hold on to the same set of values? It is an important question and how I take the next step in my social existence will be largely determined by this answer. My parents have lived their lives in the so called middle class way, what am I going to give my children? Mom and Dad gave me platform to fly, what do I have to offer? Where do children go from there? There is my answer, the answer to my aspirations, my hunger, my values, I long for something in life, I have to work hard to achieve it, the privileged are underprivileged in this sense, and they live a stagnant life. So what should do they do to break the stagnancy, I don’t know, for now at least this BHAIYA from UP is going to sleep in peace because he has found that even the rich class doesn’t always sleep in peace.

मुन्ने के आने कि खबर जब माँ ने पाई थी
तभी बिठा कर मुन्नी को इक बात माँ ने समझाई थी
दीदी बनने वाली हो, अब छोडो ये नादानी
मुन्ना करेगा शैतानी, तुम बनो अब ज़रा सयानी
माँ कि बात सुनी तो मुन्नी थोडा सा सकुंचाई थी
बड़े होने के एहसास से मुन्नी थोडा सा इतराई थी
पर माँ के कहने भर से ही मुन्नी कहाँ बड़ी हो पाई थी
तभी तो आँगन में खेलती मुन्नी ने दादी से झिड़की खाई थी
पर फिर भी मुन्ना के आने पर मुन्नी फूली नहीं समाई थी
और दीदी बनने पर मुन्नी थोडा थोडा इतराई थी
फिर देखते ही देखते मुन्नी सचमुच बड़ी हो आई थी
और तभी बुआ उसके लिए रिश्ता लेके आई थी
कहना चाहती थी वो कि अभी नहीं करनी है शादी
पर समझाने के नाम पर अम्मा ने उसकी आवाज़ दबा दी
बचपन से ही मुन्नी ये दादी से सुनती आई है
ये घर उसका नहीं है, वो इस घर के लिए परायी है
सोंचा मुन्नी ने शायद पिया के घर में मिले आजादी
पर तभी अम्मा ने मुन्नी को एक और बात बता दी
बाबुल के आँगन से पिया कि अटरिया, बेटियाँ डोली पर ही जाती हैं
पर आना हो वापस तो फिर अर्थी पर ही आती हैं
माँ कि ये बातें सुनकर मुन्नी बहुत बेचैन हो आई थी
आखिर लड़की पर क्यूँ ज़माने ने ये बंदिशें लगायी थी

कुछ सपने, कुछ आशाएं लिए मुन्नी अब पिया के घर में आई थी
पर वहाँ भी सासू माँ नें उसपर वही बंदिशें लगायी थीं
यहाँ तो उसे बंदिशों में ही रहना होगा
परिवार कि इज्ज़त पर सर्वस्व कुर्बान करना होगा
घर कि बहुएं तो परदे में ही अच्छी लगती हैं
बड़ी कि आज्ञा से ही देहरी के बहार पाव रखती हैं
सासू जी कि सीख से मुन्नी कि अखियाँ भर आई थी
पर अपनी गर्दन उसने फिर भी स्वीकृति में ही झुकाई ही
दीदी कभी बनी थी, अब तो बन गयी थी है वो दादी
पूरी ज़िन्दगी उसने घर कि चारदीवारी में ही बितादी
और दादी बनकर आज वो जब सोंच रही थी
बैठी हुई अतीत के पन्ने जब खोल रही थी
सोंचते हुए उसने केवल इतना ही पाया
कि भगवान ने क्यूँ उसको एक लड़की बनया
इससे तो अच्छा उसको चिडिया बनाया होता
ऐ काश! उसने अपनी मर्ज़ी से उड़ने का अधिकार तो पाया होता

उठो चलो
अब चल भी दो
कि वक़्त की पुकार है
जो समाज का विकार है
घिसट घिसट के चल रहा है जो
नस नस में पल रहा है जो
वो रोग हम सभी में है
तू ही उसे घटाएगा
अपने खून से मिटायेगा
सदी से पल रहा है जो
वो भ्रूंड भ्रष्टाचार का
द्वेष के प्रचार का
मासूम पे अत्याचार का
कलंक हर प्रकार का
तू ही जवान धोएगा
फिर हाँथ से पिरोयेगा
सपना नए समाज का
चमकते हुए प्रभात का
सुन
अब तो तू भी सुन ही ले
कौंध फटती धरती की
गूँज रोते आकाश की
कि महसूस कर
अब तो कर भी ले
उबाल गर्म खून का
मर्म झुके प्रसून का
खुद को एक जवाब दे
क्या तू ही देख पायेगा
खाक हुई बस्ती को
बिलखते हुए बच्चों को
चिथड़े में लिपटी नार को
और टूटे हुए संसार को
नहीं देख सकता है तो सुन
उस दुष्ट पे प्रहार कर
हर द्वेष का बहिष्कार कर
हर मानव से तो प्यार कर
इस धरती का उद्हार कर
उठो चलो
अब चल भी दो
तेरा घर यही संसार है
इसी में तेरा
इसी में मेरा
इसी में सबका उद्हार है
यही तो जीवन सार है

आज फिर किसी अनजाने साए कि परछाई में छुपे हुएँ हैं कुछ शब्द
हलक में अटके हुए हैं, जुबान पे आते ही नहीं कुछ शब्द
बंधे बंधे से, वजनी वजनी से सीने में सिरहन की तरह तैरते हुए कुछ शब्द
दाब ऐसा की नब्जें फटने लगी, और रात भर सीने में अंगार की तरह जलते रहे कुछ शब्द

कुछ शब्द दिल के खालीपन में डूबे रहे
कुछ शब्द सहमें सहमें से अपना वजूद तलाशते रहे
कुछ शब्द कौंधते रहे सुबह-शाम मेरे दिल-ओ-दिमाग में
और कुछ शब्द आईने में अपना अर्थ ढूँढ़ते रहे

सोंचता हूँ की आखिर कब तक छुपे रहेंगे इस तरह कुछ शब्द
कब तक मेरे सीने में हलचल मचाते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द
कब तक मुझको मुझसे ही लड़ते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द
कब तक तेरी यादों के नर्म साए कि याद दिलाते रहेंगे कुछ शब्द

हाँ ये तुम ही तो हो जो मेरे थरथराते होंठो पे शब्द बनके मचलना चाहती हो
तुम ही तो हो जो चेहरे पे मेरे मुस्कान बनके बिखरना चाहती हो 

कुछ शब्द तुम्हारी यादों में ढलते रहे, और गर्म सांसें तेरी खुशबू में थिरकती रहीं
तुम प्यास बनकर गले से चिपकी रही, और लहू बनकर रगों में दौड़ती रह
मैं तुम्हे नज़रंदाज़ करता रहा और तुम मुझे शब्दों कि उलझन बनकर छेड़ती रही
मैं तुम्हारा गुनहगार हूँ
चीर दो मेरे सीने को ज़िन्दगी के खंजर से और निकल फेको उसमें से बनते बिगड़ते, कुछ शब्द

When I wrote those words above, I thought to myself why is it that I want to have such arbit words to be a title for my blog entry. But I could hardly resist writing these words, and because I could not fit them in my entry I thought I would put them in the title. And just the randomness of the set of these words gives me wings to write anything I feel like. As it is I have been feeling a strong urge for a long to time to just write without trying to follow a single thought, just keep writing what comes to my mind. After reading these 7 words over and over again innumerable times I now think that there is some connection between these random words and me, otherwise why the strong urge to pen them down. And that connection could well be the life for me. Yes, “Confusion, happiness, unique, veil, vial, wail, and success” define life for me. I would just take the opportunity not to decorate my words, to let my writings be as confused as I am or may be I am not.

I can’t forget the eyes of two women in their 40s or may be more, not choosing to leave the stadium when everyone was doing it as India lost to Australia in Hyderabad. The way they held each others hands and prayed for some magic to happen and India to win. The look in their eyes was heart warming, the urge for someone whom you call yours, to win, in this case its team India. The visual has stayed with me for the past five days.

I can’t forget the kids whom I saw at Juhu beach today, who were playing with the sand, had those plastic saw, trolleys and lots of other such stuff, which looked expensive, and the urge in my heart to provide my kids with that kind of fun, that affluence, which I never had. And then there was a realization of parents living dreams through their children. And almost immediately it gave me an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my parents. They have provided me with everything they could only dream of during their childhood and youth. I can never do enough for them, and I can’t shrug it off by saying that it is every parent’s responsibility because what they have done for me has not been anything short of extra ordinary, considering the kind of childhood they had for themselves.

I can’t forget another kid on Juhu beach, who was shivering with cold and barely had clothes to cover himself up, and looked with a lost silence at those kids I mentioned above. He knew he could also make castles with sand, but his hands could not match the efficiency of the spade, he knew he could also make a moat around that castle but he knew that he had no trolley to take the sand he digs away from the structure and the hold of his palms was insignificantly small. He knew if he fought hard and persisted he could still manage, but then there was no one to provide him with juice after all the efforts he has made, or at the least hug him and say ‘good work’, there was no one for him and he knew, and I can’t forget.

I can’t forget the puja three years ago, the way it changed my life and my association with festive. The way I used to get all pepped up as soon as navratra was there, and how that one month of festivities used to give me all the positive energy I required for an entire year. The same puja today seems to depress me and add on to it the pink weather which makes me all the more vulnerable. It gives me a nagging feeling, a restless heart, an unsettled mind.

I can’t forget a girl who tries to commit suicide after she lost the guy she loved almost madly, immediately after her engagement. Her cries, give me a feeling of standing in an endless graveyard. It makes me feel sick.

I can’t forget my cousin whom I could never know close enough, and news channels say committed suicide due to an unrewarded love. I can’t forget another cousin who as I write this is battling for life at a very young age. I have never been close to them but they make me sad, I feel like going in front of the sea and cry loudly. Because I feel for them not as their cousin but as a stranger, what happened to them was unfair.

I can’t forget when my friend says that her life is giving her a choking feeling; it chokes me too to realize that I can’t do anything about it.

I can’t forget that I can’t do anything about so many things in life.

I can’t forget how I have lost friends in front of my eyes and I only watched helplessly even reluctant at time to win them back.

I can’t forget how I have been lying all my life so much so that those lies have become a part of my life but they still are lies. How I have kept lying to myself, I am afraid of loosing respect in my own eyes.

I can’t forget when Aditya said, he can never be easy with the fact that one can date someone who has been with someone else before and that too for a long time. How many of us can really accept someone with those credentials, can I do that. But that is the hypocrisy, if I can’t accept someone like that, who will accept me. It’s a man’s world and we the men of the world think from our perspective all the time.

I can’t forget that I wanted to write so much more and I am absolutely not satisfied and at peace, but I just cant carry on. May be some other time. I really miss my diary. I want to get back to it, but something has been stopping me from doing it.

 

How well do I remember this and because of this – the order of nine planets in this universe. And similarly, the metal activity series, still by heart, starting from Potassium and ending at Gold, even when I have forgotten Chemistry completely. But then what happened? Where did I loose memories of the recent past? Where is my mind, what is it doing, has my comprehension become weak or I was always a fool who has just realized its existence! It is immensely embarrassing not to be able to make others cheat from your paper in the exams, oh; it’s shameful I tell you. What is happening? Where has the peace gone? Find an answer soon.

I am jealous, plain and simple jealous. It’s been ages, I thought I would improve, but no, it isn’t getting any better. It kills me inside every time this feeling erupts in my mind. Sage is what I want to be in the mind, not bothered and bogged by lesser mortals, but human at the least is what I am and will always be, and I behave like them. It hurts me. But if to think of a reason, if at all there is one, then I must say it’s the nomadic spirit in me. The ever so unsettled fickle mind of mine, which wants to be here now and there the next moment. But there is only one truth and that’s this moment and I can be only person in that time, and every time I take up the role of that one person I fail all the others that I also want to be. And then I am jealous of all that I wanted to be and some else is, at that very moment. This jealousy therefore is perennial and has no solution. It can’t go away just like that. I want some peace in the mind. For me that is the toughest thing to achieve, because the mind is not stationary, it just doesn’t stop. It fails to admit and accept that I can be just one and only one person at one time. I realize everything, I know and yet I am helpless. Sometimes I think I let the jealousy in me fuel, I do it with a reason in mind. But more that doing good and fulfilling that reason, I makes me weak softly and my mind weeps, it cries for the fact that it cant stop. There is a long way to go, I have to keep looking around, if the mind cannot stop I cannot start wearing blinkers, I cant turn myself blind. Let it happen, I will face it. I know that there is no resting in peace.