उसके प्रश्न में प्रश्नवाचक चिन्ह नहीं थे
     न उसके रोने मे आवाज़
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उसकी अभिव्यक्ति मूक थी
और भाषा निःशब्द
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वह खुद के लिए भी एक अजनबी था

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उसका जीवन एक सुन्दर विचार था !

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वो लज्जित थे |

उन्हें लज्जा से डर लगता था
और अपने चेहरे से भी
......
उन्होंने मुखौटे लगा लिए |
                                    

क्योकि... होना, खूबसूरत है .

मुझे नहीं चाहिए

सुबह का सूरज
दिन की शुरुआत
के इशारे के लिए


न चाहिए

चमकता चाँद
और उसका बड़ी सी अलसायी आँखों से झाँकना
अंधेरो की परतों में;
रात को उसका अर्थ देने के लिए

न ही चाहिए

किताबे -
 अपने में बंद
जाने किस बात पे इतराती हुई;
अकेलेपन में साथ का
तिमिर  में प्रकाश का
भान देने के लिए


लेकिन


होना
बहुत खूबसूरत है
और वृहद्तर अर्थो में
जीवन  का पूरक है
होना
सुबह के सूरज का -
बेवकूफ से ताकते चाँद का -
और  इतराती सुन्दर किताबो का .

क्योकि तुम्हारा होना खूबसूरत है.. पूरक है.

ख़ामोशी का भी अपना एक व्याकरण होता है.

इसके  भी
हर्फ़ होते है,
अलफ़ाज़ होते है
अल्फाजो का चयन होता है.

ख़ामोशी का भी अपना एक व्याकरण होता है.

उस घढ़ी की टिकटिक
इन हवाओ का चलना
और अब बारिश की टिप टिप

इस  संगीत में बस चुप रहने का मन होता है.

डुबो मत बैठना
इस सैलाब में खुद को
कहते है कहने वाले

ये सब तो बस कच्ची उम्र का उतावलापन होता है.

उसने चुना किनारा
मैंने चुना डूबना
वो भी सही, मै भी सही

आखिर सबका अपना अपना चयन होता है.

ड्राइंग-रूम में सजे पौधे ने
बगीचे से चिठ्ठी में कहा

ऐसे जीवन से बेहतर तो मरण होता है.

अकेलापन: उसका. मेरा.

Because, a falling leaf is almost like a heart in love.

उसका अकेलापन
क्या मेरे अकेलेपन के कारण है
या मेरे अकेलेपन का कारण है

या फिर

सच के दोनों संस्करणों को समेटे
वो, मै और मुझ से परे,
है एक स्वतंत्र इकाई.


पर कितनी स्वतंत्र?


उतनी,
जितनी  होती है शाख से अलग हों चुकी पत्ती
या बादल से कमान से निकली हुई बूँद बारिश की

या उतना
जितना  होता है समंदर के बीच
एक  वीरान सा टापू

The solitude of an Island is as unbearable but equally different

या फिर
जितने होते सूनसान से रेगिस्तान में
बड़े बड़े
रेट के टीले.

फर्क है
स्वतंत्रता स्वतंत्रता में भी
समझ रहे हों न?                                                       
इस  फर्क को?
मुझको?

from the solitude of a dune.

  

समय आ गया है.

समय को अब नेपथ्य में भेजने का समय आ गया है.

अब  तक हुआ है सब कुछ बहुत ही तरीके से .
बिलकुल चरणबद्ध.
गिनती  की तरह.
पर जीवनी नहीं है मेरी
ये जीवन है.
 जीवंत.

इस जीवट में व्यवस्था को सहेजने का समय आ गया है
समय को अब नेपथ्य में भेजने का समय आ गया है.

प्रेम , प्रश्न और प्रति-प्रश्न ???

प्रेम में होना
क्या होता है ?
या
क्या नहीं होता है^ ?

क्या  मिलन की अकुलाहट का
नाम
है प्रेम ??
(तो मिलन के बाद प्रेम समाप्त हों जाना चाहिए)

या सहारे का ही पर्यायवाच्ची है
(तब  तो मिलता होगा
 भरपूर
वो हर एक संस्था में
परिवार से अनाथालय तक)

या फिर एक खोज है
सतत ,निरंतर
पहचानने  की ,
समझने की , जानने की.
(फिर तो वो विज्ञानी भी होगा प्रेमी
जिसने खोजा था अणु सिद्धांत
करता गया उसे परिष्कृत
और बनाया
अणु बम)

या  फिर है प्रेम
होना
बस होना
हर प्रश्न और उत्तर के परे
शब्दों  और संज्ञाओ की सीमा से बाहर
निजी अनुभव
उतना ही निजी
जितना रहा हों
बुद्धत्व
या रही हों
सुजाता* की खीर
या होती हों

प्रसव  की पीड़ा 

Because, love is all about a mutually satisfying weirdness.

^ क्या नही है? - इस विषय पर शोध और अनुभव का समागम होना अभी (सोभाग्यवश या दुर्भाग्यवश) शेष है.

*Sujata, a maiden who, in Gautama Buddha's life, offered the Buddha a bowl of milk rice before he gave up the path of asceticism following six years of extreme austerities.

Eluding the truth. Really??

He was in love. Or he called it love. Or he felt it was love- admidst these different positions (if they were different at all) he was sitting there. With her. It was a park. A public place. It was spring season. Beautiful all around. He loved that park. It felt familiar. May be the ducks, the squirrels, the birds made it so. Or may be- her presence.

Choice. Answers. He never looked for answers. Almost never. Why?- because he thought answers elude the truth. Or they did it in his experience.

 

 But of late he felt that it was a bad habit. Wait. When did he begin categorizing his habits as good or bad. Being judgmental was not one of his traits. Or may be it was - at a far more subtle level - to be perceived even to self. Was it her who was causing 'it? Was he trying to understand himself through her eyes? Was it good? Won't it hurt his ego which was too happy to maintain a status quo? 

Answers - he felt again- always elude the truth.

He had looked long enough away from her. She had noticed. Or may be she hadn't. She was looking somewhere else herself. He looked at her. Into her- he often used to tell himself. Into her eyes. Eyes- the most beautiful aspect of her being. They conversed a lot. Not that she did it less in other way. Actually she too, like her eyes, conversed a lot. Yes - 'conversed' , not speak, he told himself, often. Or may be she compensated for his silence. Silence that did hurt her. Or may be, didn't. Silence- may be which didn't matter much now. Or may be it did. Silence- which she had started comprehending by now. Or she always did. Did she? Did he??

Answers- he thought- always elude the truth. Her eyes didn't, though. 

 

He had seen shades-many- reflected through them. He had seen disappointment, sadness, excitement, happiness, joy, enthusiasm, questions, answers- answers which raised more questions-, and many more emotions. He had seen love in all of these emotions. But had he got the ability to recognize love. Hadn't he claimed to recognize it somewhere when it wasn't there? Hadn't he failed to see it unless told? Had he been able to recognize it if not told about it ever?

Answers???........
 

She looked back. Into his eyes. He wanted to keep looking the same way as he had been. But he had something to say. He was thinking- how??. He was lost. He didn't want to reveal it to her. Anyhow, he looked away. She said something. Something. And then she smiled. She laughed, actually. He smiled and she laughed crazily - the only sane way to laugh. And he felt it was spring season. He felt familiar.
 

A lot more happened that day. He told me only this much - "a lot more happened". May be he will reveal it in very near future. May be he won't. Still I'll wait. Because, without his telling me more about that 'lot more' -  

How would I know????    

Because love, like death changes everything. ~ Gibran 

How would I know???!!

For long, actually too long, he had been thinking of writing a blog. But, for several reasons, known and unknown, he kept delaying it for tomorrow. A tomorrow which never came - until today.  

Why is he so? I mean why he delays everything? Is it just laziness or something more dangerous. Has he got into the tendency of postponing everything for tomorrow. Or is it that he sacrifices the chance of a GOOD one for the sake of PERFECT one. Or may be he feels that he don't deserve any thing good or perfect. Or he is afraid of revealing himself too much. Or may be he fears rejection. Or may be all of the above reasons in varying proportions. Or may be none of the above.

          How would I know??

I knew him. And I know him. And there is a difference between the two. He was good otherwise. In his fraternity people took him for someone deep, intelligent and even wisdomful at times. He was always open to life - its colors and shades, crests and troughs , gifts and challenges. He took decisions, he did mistakes, he had regrets but still he moved on. He hated to hurt people and he managed it beautifully even with his "I don't care" attitude. Even his weak memory was his asset. It helped him to forget things which he wanted to leave behind. Though sometimes he felt that he was neurotic but this thought never stayed long enough to bother him. One thing which reflected from his face, his aura, was that he enjoyed his very existence. But, that was all about I "knew"!

So what has changed?

Well, I don't know exactly. And I don't know even if he himself can reveal it in black and white - poor vocabulary was another of his weak points (Though his close friend told often that his face was expressive but that just made him wonder why was it not the same with his words).

May be Career... It may be. (He has often been at crossroads in choice of career. He had a persistent fear that he may choose something which he may not love -  which may not yield a sense of satisfaction to him, which he may just choose simply because many people (including he, himself) have so many expectations from him.

 Or May be Love... It may be. He has been too confused on this issue. He has been in love. He is. But its transformation into a commitment or relationship has been uncomfortable(stupid choice of word, i know).  This loaded word has been the source of all creativity, all enthusiasm and all what is deep (good or bad don't matter sometime) in his small but eventful life (that includes deep sense of gratitude, gratefulness and grandness along with deep feeling of guilt, regret and rejection). That sounds stupid. It is. And he knows that, I guess. But that is how it is.

But Okay. Let him take time. He will be back again (he is already more than half way, I feel!). He may not believe in word belief but strangely he feels a sense of faith now. He feels good. Happy. Positive vibes all around. May be his discomfort lies in the fact that he has simply been unable to reciprocate, to reply, to open up.... it may be.

How would i know????