Somewhere in our consciousness, is a reflection of a dream... .a dream of someone we think as very special to us.... someone that we always wanted to be our partner in life.... someone we do not know but whose foggy images lie entrenched in the depths of our consciousness, often unknown to us.... but the truth is that all of us have somewhere in the deep recesses of our heart a picture of the love that we desire and we expect in our hearts.....
Dil Mein Basi Hui Hai Tasveer Yaar Ki,
Jab Jee Chhahi, Nazar Jhukaayee, Dekh Li
The pursuit of a perfect love is often a difficult task One spends his entire life looking for that elusive reflection, that suauve image, that silent desire and many a times it's remains just that .... a dream. It's not that one desires always a perfect person. To be frank, Nobody wants a lover with a perfect figure, face and features... all one wants is a heart full of love and a soul full of care, faith and integrity, someone who is an exact replica of the image in the heart. As Shailendra once said:
Chand Si Mehbooba Ho Meri Kab Aisa Maine Socha Tha?
Haan.... Tum Bilkul Waisi Ho... Jaisa Maine Socha Tha!
We may call it the Mr. Right or Miss Perfect Syndrome or by whatever else we feel it to be but the truth remains that all of us spend a great deal of our time trying to find that love.... some search for that elusive non-existent ideal all through the lives ..... every person we meet is often compared to that reflection in our minds ... and then accordingly accepted or rejected....... this continues day after day, month after month, year after year .... the heart breaks and again smiles in hope of a better tomorrow... and again bites the dust....
And then one day defeated by the continuous frustrations and deviations from what we assume to be the perfect comrade for us on the way of life, we lay down our weapons... we sacrifice our love... our desires on the altar of that ever-silent, ever-patient but ruthless spider of our life - the Society.... and like any other Spider, Society devours us ruthlessly and completely, leaving nothing but a husk of what could have been a dream.. all shattered, all destroyed at the altar of the practical realm of life. His lips quiver to the sound of that beautiful emotion that says......
Aayengi Bahaaren, To Teri Hi Fassane Sunaayengi Humen
Hogi Tanhaaiyee To Ankhiyon Mein Aake Rulaayegi Humen
Rulaayengi Humen..... Tadpaayengi Humen
And then softly and slowly without turning back walks on.... he is mindful of his dreams being left on the middle of the road, orphaned and devastated... the tears fall but the man walks on, fearing that one day his own heart would betray him if we stopped and turned back to the world....
It takes guts but Man finally accepts the cards dealt out by the hands of Fate and starts adjusting his own self to his resigned fate.... the memory of that dream that stirred his heart in the early days of his life slowly fades away until one day Man remembers that he has become just another creature in this carnival of life... shorn of all his hopes and aspirations, he becomes just another person. And we console our hearts by saying consistently,
Hum Kyoon Shiqwaa Karen Jhoota!
Kya Hua Jo Dil Toota?
Mitti Ka Khilona Tha; Kuch Na Kucch Hona Tha
Hua!
And then when everything is lost, God suddenly decides that He exists.... that he has to show he 'exists' and so to add salt to the wound.. he decided to play benovelent.. by you have lost everything - your dreams, your desires, your love and reconciled yourself to the vagaries of life - to a life without love, to a life shorn of happiness, to a life wedded to loneliness and then suddenly when you think that "jee lenge" - God decides to present you with that image, that reflection that you have reflected upon so many times in solitude..... an image that's now more inaccessible then before....
And then your heart starts asking you a question..... As usual he is emotional and refuses to listen.. all it wants is to get it's beloved in his embrace while on the other hand the mind, mindful of the practicalities of the situation refuses to let it go...
Josh Kehta Hai Ki Chal,
Hosh Kehta Hai Sambhal,
Kiska Kehna Maan Loon?
Manzil Hai Mere Saamne!
And then begins a battle between the loving heart and the loving but pained mind..... a battle that tears apart the soul, the mind and the heart... a battle that has no end... they are lucky who are successful but even so are those who lose.. because what wins is LOVE!
And another story begins......
Thursday, 17 July 2008
A Grandson Laments
Yesterday night, I met my grandmother after 22 years.......
I really did not wish to meet her..... What would I tell her? What would I show her? That Her grandson has won all the battles in his life but lost all the wars in his life..... How would I reconcile my loving grandmother to the fact that her grandson has not succeeded in every important battle of life...... although he is considered as very successful and talented.....
But I did meet her... her eyes are still as soft as ever, her smile as genuine as ever, her face is as serene as ever and her heart as full of love as ever...... everything is the same except....
Except me!
Wohi Hai Saaz, Wohi Geet Hai, Wohi Manzar,
Har Ek Cheez Wohi Hai,
Nahin Hoon Main Woh Magar !
I am not the same Raj, the same young man I used to be...... I have changed and changed drastically..... there is no innocence in my eyes, no tears too! there is no softness in my heart, no love too! the childlike innocence that I had at some point of time has died and lies unshrouded on some dark filthy alleyway of the hard street of life.. .thrown apart from the body like a sanitary napkin thrown apart after it's one-time use......
The smiling boy who was called Prince Charming by his school and college boys is dead and what you have in his place is a heartless, dark, cruel and highly arrogant manifestation of all that's devilish and unholy ... the Harry Potter of the 1980s has transformed into Lord Voldemort of the 2008 and the transformation could not have been more perfect......
Yes.. somewhere within me that boy lives..... and it's unfortunate that he still lives..... he wants a lot from life ..... a lot more than I can give......
He wants love, he wants peace, he wants happiness.... but Raj..... they are not supposed to be yours..... they were never supposed to be..... what do I tell him and how do I tell him......
Ye Raat Kehti Hai Woh Din Gaye Tere
Ye Jaanta Hai Dil Ki Woh Nahin Mere
I could not face her.... how could I face my grandmother; how could I see tears into her eyes.... she would have surely felt my loss and I would never have been able to see her crying... I was never able to see tears in the eyes of those I loved..... one of the reasons I never attend any funerals.....
But she understood... my latest loss too.... and asked me to let her hold me.....
Daadi Maa... I wish you could hold me..... I wish you could ...
You know something mom..... the kingdom of heaven has been very good to you... sadly, here again we will be separated..... you will reside in the Kingdom of Heaven and I will be away from you... suffering the pangs of pain... in the Empire of Hell......
Dil Ki Ye Hasrat Hai Tere Paas Main Aaoon
Jo Gir Gayi Ho Aisi Nigaah Kaise Milaaon
Nakaam Hoon, Badnaam Hoon;
Kya Mujh Mein Bhala Hai......
Daadi Maa.... If I could .... I definitely would!
I really did not wish to meet her..... What would I tell her? What would I show her? That Her grandson has won all the battles in his life but lost all the wars in his life..... How would I reconcile my loving grandmother to the fact that her grandson has not succeeded in every important battle of life...... although he is considered as very successful and talented.....
But I did meet her... her eyes are still as soft as ever, her smile as genuine as ever, her face is as serene as ever and her heart as full of love as ever...... everything is the same except....
Except me!
Wohi Hai Saaz, Wohi Geet Hai, Wohi Manzar,
Har Ek Cheez Wohi Hai,
Nahin Hoon Main Woh Magar !
I am not the same Raj, the same young man I used to be...... I have changed and changed drastically..... there is no innocence in my eyes, no tears too! there is no softness in my heart, no love too! the childlike innocence that I had at some point of time has died and lies unshrouded on some dark filthy alleyway of the hard street of life.. .thrown apart from the body like a sanitary napkin thrown apart after it's one-time use......
The smiling boy who was called Prince Charming by his school and college boys is dead and what you have in his place is a heartless, dark, cruel and highly arrogant manifestation of all that's devilish and unholy ... the Harry Potter of the 1980s has transformed into Lord Voldemort of the 2008 and the transformation could not have been more perfect......
Yes.. somewhere within me that boy lives..... and it's unfortunate that he still lives..... he wants a lot from life ..... a lot more than I can give......
He wants love, he wants peace, he wants happiness.... but Raj..... they are not supposed to be yours..... they were never supposed to be..... what do I tell him and how do I tell him......
Ye Raat Kehti Hai Woh Din Gaye Tere
Ye Jaanta Hai Dil Ki Woh Nahin Mere
I could not face her.... how could I face my grandmother; how could I see tears into her eyes.... she would have surely felt my loss and I would never have been able to see her crying... I was never able to see tears in the eyes of those I loved..... one of the reasons I never attend any funerals.....
But she understood... my latest loss too.... and asked me to let her hold me.....
Daadi Maa... I wish you could hold me..... I wish you could ...
You know something mom..... the kingdom of heaven has been very good to you... sadly, here again we will be separated..... you will reside in the Kingdom of Heaven and I will be away from you... suffering the pangs of pain... in the Empire of Hell......
Dil Ki Ye Hasrat Hai Tere Paas Main Aaoon
Jo Gir Gayi Ho Aisi Nigaah Kaise Milaaon
Nakaam Hoon, Badnaam Hoon;
Kya Mujh Mein Bhala Hai......
Daadi Maa.... If I could .... I definitely would!
The End of a Dream
What pains us the most in life is not the loss of what we want from life but the fact that sometimes what we want from life cannot be ours even though it's so close to us....
Every Man has a Dream, a Dream that he would not let go of under any circumstance... a dream that is so important to him that he would rather risk his life than watch it destroyed. In the youthful days of his life, Man tries his best to reconcile his dreams with the hopes of a new dawn.... he looks at the crimson of the dawn and finds his dreams reflected in the shine of the sun's smiling rays....
The age of 14-26 is so romantic, there is so much challenge in the air... anything and everything is in the grasp of one's hand and with that feeling Youth moves on.. confident of itself and longing to capture the world.... maybe that's the reasons revolutions all over the world have a youth connection.....
The world is bright to them.. .there is love in the air.... idealism surrounds you.... loyalty, faith, love and friendship mean a lot to the heart and the heart rejoices in these periods of child-like innocence and child-like happiness... when all is happiness and all is truth....
It's as if the world is singing with you..... and you are on top of the world....
And then one day, the shafts of sweet light that lit up your mornings start burning you...... and then you look around disillusioned by the light that was supposed to help you.... in a matter of times, all those lofty dreams are smashed and all that remains around you is nothing but charred remains of that dream that you held ever so softly in your hands.... your tears intermingle with the charred remains of your dreams... ruthless considerations of family, career, caste, community, creed, colour, sex and religion start playing their part and all those dreams of faith, loyalty and truth end prematurely....
Still some people shoulder on, carrying the last vestiges of their pains of their broken shoulders, fighting silently against the pain that engulfs them, refusing to accept defeat - shorn of all platitudes and torn apart by the vagaries of life they persist.... only to find themselves either destroyed by those who loved them or by their own dreams....
And then nothing remains..... except a soft voice that sings to us softly:
Jaane Kahan Gaye Woh Din...
Kahete The Teri Raah Mein
Nazron Ko Hum Bichaayenge
Chaahe Kahin Bhi Tum Raho.....
Chaahenge Tumko Umr Bhar
Tumko Naa Bhool Paayenge....
God can sometimes be so funny...
Every Man has a Dream, a Dream that he would not let go of under any circumstance... a dream that is so important to him that he would rather risk his life than watch it destroyed. In the youthful days of his life, Man tries his best to reconcile his dreams with the hopes of a new dawn.... he looks at the crimson of the dawn and finds his dreams reflected in the shine of the sun's smiling rays....
The age of 14-26 is so romantic, there is so much challenge in the air... anything and everything is in the grasp of one's hand and with that feeling Youth moves on.. confident of itself and longing to capture the world.... maybe that's the reasons revolutions all over the world have a youth connection.....
The world is bright to them.. .there is love in the air.... idealism surrounds you.... loyalty, faith, love and friendship mean a lot to the heart and the heart rejoices in these periods of child-like innocence and child-like happiness... when all is happiness and all is truth....
It's as if the world is singing with you..... and you are on top of the world....
And then one day, the shafts of sweet light that lit up your mornings start burning you...... and then you look around disillusioned by the light that was supposed to help you.... in a matter of times, all those lofty dreams are smashed and all that remains around you is nothing but charred remains of that dream that you held ever so softly in your hands.... your tears intermingle with the charred remains of your dreams... ruthless considerations of family, career, caste, community, creed, colour, sex and religion start playing their part and all those dreams of faith, loyalty and truth end prematurely....
Still some people shoulder on, carrying the last vestiges of their pains of their broken shoulders, fighting silently against the pain that engulfs them, refusing to accept defeat - shorn of all platitudes and torn apart by the vagaries of life they persist.... only to find themselves either destroyed by those who loved them or by their own dreams....
And then nothing remains..... except a soft voice that sings to us softly:
Jaane Kahan Gaye Woh Din...
Kahete The Teri Raah Mein
Nazron Ko Hum Bichaayenge
Chaahe Kahin Bhi Tum Raho.....
Chaahenge Tumko Umr Bhar
Tumko Naa Bhool Paayenge....
God can sometimes be so funny...
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