Promise

January 16, 2010, she died of cancer. She was just 22. We were friends from school, right from childhood. On that rainy night, I still remember, she told me she was sick, my face a mask of confusion. She said that she was sick of being sick and she hated God for doing this to her for no reason, and that was when I realized what she meant by that “I am sick…” And then she asked me, “Would you write?” a peculiar expression on her face, “Would you write about me… after I’m gone?” her last few words were barely audible, but I ran away without replying, because not a single word came out of my mouth, just a few sobs, and then I was quiet. I came back home and didn’t talk to her for 3 days. She cheated, I said, we were supposed to be friends forever, but she’s leaving, she’s going… she’s breaking her promise.

At last she came to my home, came upstairs to my room, said nothing but just looked at me with pleading eyes, and all I could say was, ‘you’re dying!’, and we hugged each other and cried silent tears, cried for the precious little time we had… cried for her, for me, for us, our friendship… and we cried our hearts out, and then I told her between sobs, “yes, I’ll do it…”.

Days passed on. We rarely talked about her sickness. On Saturdays she would disappear for treatments and would be back by Monday, and during weekdays neither of us mentioned the weekend. It was like an unwritten but mutually understood rule that we won’t talk about her disease and even if the topic came up, we would steer clear of that topic.

We talked a lot, in class, then on phone. We had so many things to talk about- boys, classes, career, life, music, latest trends, movies, anything and everything but cancer.

At rimes she would grow really quiet. I remember she was really upset and silent after our 10^th board exams, when we were all enthusiastic about selecting subjects for our career. I was worried about her, so I confronted her and this was the answer I got, “Even if I study really hard, it’s not like I’ll be able to do something with this life, slipping slowly out of my hands. It’s like someone is slowly sucking breath out of me…” I stayed quiet. What possibly could I have said to console her aching heart?

Later our ways parted, we both moved to different colleges. But we still kept in touch through phone, mails, letters, chats, texts etc. Now, the time we spent with each other was much lesser, but the bonding grew stronger with each passing day.

Gradually, she stopped calling, texting and we drifted apart. I got busy with my life, new friends, more funny friends who could have more fun instead of sitting quietly fearing exertion.  I got way too busy to notice that she was cutting me off from her life. I took her presence for granted, because for me she was like the constant sun, I would keep moving travelling farther and farther but when I would turn and look, she would be there, smiling, shining, my guiding light, my best friend. But one day, when I turned my sun was gone, it was all dark and I didn’t even notice because I grew so used to dark. I realized that all the new friends were unreal, fake. With masks of friendliness, and with mean a core inside.

Then one day, years later, I got a call from her father. She was sick, terribly sick and in hospital. She wanted to see me.

“I’m sorry…” I started to say as I entered the sterile hospital room. She was lying in bed, her head bald, and her long black hair gone.

“I didn’t keep in touch, I forgot you…” I tried again, but she interrupted me with, “No, I’m sorry. I was the one who drove you away. I never wanted to hurt you; I wanted you to get as unattached as u could get… I’m sorry…” Her voice sounded exhausted, strangled.

“…but I couldn’t help missing you so I asked papa to call you.”

And then she looked into my eyes and said, “I’m dying… but I don’t want to die…” and a tear slipped down the edge of her eye, “I want to live… I’m scared, I think I won’t be able to see tomorrow’s sun, but it’s cool… I don’t mind. I’ve lived enough to make new friends, to have fun, be happy, laugh, and differ between wrong and right. Even if he’s taking my life, he gave me you and my family who all love me…” and then she turned her face the other way.

“Done with your filmy dialogues?” I asked with a fake teasing smile, “Now sleep…”

And soon she drifted off to sleep thanks to the heavy sedatives she was being given; I fled the room and never went to see her again until her funeral. Call me a coward, but I didn’t have the strength to see her dying.

January 16, 2010. She died of cancer. She was just 22, yet she was old enough to understand the deep bond of friendship, old enough to accept the fact that she was dying gracefully. I never saw her whining or complaining or pointing out mistakes in anyone. She was always happy with things as they were. And today I’m keeping my promise. The promise I made to her on that rainy night when we were kids. And although she’s gone, she lives, in every story I write, every book I publish and she smiles at me and tells me that she’s proud of me.

New Shoes

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, all different varieties of footwear, just for 100 rs. per pair. Trendy, comfortable, and pocket-friendly..." the salesman bragged on about his 'fabulous' shoes and how wise a decision it was to buy his shoes from the temporary road-side stand on the busy sidewalk of a city-road lit by a trillion-zillion twinkling lights marking the festive season.
Tomorrow would be the big day and people were out and about shopping for the festival. Everyone was chattering to someone and looking around in awe, walking slowly, everyone... except one, he was walking fast, really fast, head bent down, not daring to lift his eyes from the dirty sidewalk, fearing that the rich lights and festivities would make his dull day even duller.
 "yes, just hundred bucks for a pair of these white shoes..." were the words that caught his attention. He looked up at last and saw the stall, glittering with beaded lights and a small crowd gathered around it, looking curiously from shoe to shoe.
He looked at his feet clad in old, worn out slippers and with a sudden pang in his chest felt desire swell, swell until it turned into a monster, he wanted those white shoes.
He moved closer and looked again, looked at those white shoes, exquisite and delicate, white, almost emitting a sheen, that was when reality sneaked into his thoughts...
He was poor, very poor, he thought.
He had a home to pay for, even if it was just a rented room in a dingy, stinky neighborhood with narrow lanes where stray pigs and dogs roamed as if they owned the city. He had a wife and two kids to feed, all this with his meager salary... 100 rs. was a huge amount to him. He's doing fine in his slippers, he decided and giving one last look to those shoes he turned.
"Do you want these, sir?" asked the salesman as he was about to walk away. He turned, temptation tugging at his senses, "Umm..." was all that he said.
"These are unique, sir... latest fashion, last piece left... and sir, you're very lucky because you're even getting a discount on these..."
"oh good..." he said, never batting an eyelid, never moving his eyes from the object of his desire, "can't I have a close look?"
"Sure sir, there you go..." said the salesman as he handed him the shoes.
Should I buy these? Nah! It would be an extravagant expenditure for no reason...
But when he was about to return the shoes, he just couldn't let them go. It was like his hands had a mind of their own and this mind had no reasoning skills, all it knew was greed and desire. And his hands held on to those shoes greedily while his mind wanted to give them back.
And that was when he gave up and let this dangerously greedy mind take over and took out the money from his right pocket on an impulse and those shoes were his. It felt so good. His shoes. His new shoes.
He started again for his home, holding his shoes in his hands, looking more at them and less at the path he was walking on. It was just his feet accustomed to the path, that were carrying him and making him stop and then start again at right places and making him turn where there was a turn.
But the streets were crowded because of the festival and his feet were not used to walking in this thick crowd and all of a sudden he got pushed by someone, toppled and lost his balance and there went his new shoes right into a puddle full of mud.
He sat there on his knees for a long time, not saying anything, not aware of the people passing by, just looking... looking at his shoes drenched in mud. And then with sad slow movements, he picked them up and started for his home again, head bent down, pace slow, with his new shoes clutched to his chest.

If she had wings, She could fly...

I saw a little girl holding a huge hand in her tiny fingers in my mind today,
white and red polka dots on the black dress,
her tiny feet taking one step at a time,
a little afraid at first, afraid to fall.
Her father, her mentor encouraging her,
and soon chuckles of feeble laughter
reverberating through the silent park,
and then she let go of the hand, the support preventing her fall,
landing on her padded bum looking around in a confused haze.
Her father stood back and watched never making a move to help,
"Get up baby" was all he said.
She stood up once again on her tiny legs and wobbly knees,
and took a step forward, a tiny one...
just testing if she can walk on her own,
then another, then another..
A small smile breaking on her round face,
each step more sure than the previous one.
Each new step telling of her confidence on herself.
And soon she's running around the park,
feeling the exhilarating independence.
In that moment, if she had wings, she could fly...

My Mother's Childhood

I remember the day my mother told me of her childhood,
a naughty sparkle in her eyes.
And I travelled far off lands with her,
and we danced and sang and played with our dolls,
and stole berries from her neighbour,
and then ran off hand in hand.
And that day I saw a different side,
so different from the one that cooked and cleaned and fussed and scolded,
and I saw my mother's inner child.
I remember the day my mother told me of her childhood,
and will remember it all my life.

Home Away From Home

I got out of the car with a real bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I assumed this might be motion sickness, though I knew this feeling and was sure it had nothing to do with the 10 hour long drive. "It's a bad idea." My mind kept repeating over and over.

"Sarojini Naidu Girl's hostel", read the building I was about to enter.

"You don't have to do this. Go for the college in your hometown.", the pessimist part of my brain told me.

"Oh, Come on! This is just a hostel, many people live in hostels, to gain education, it's no big deal." said the saner part of me. But I had decided to go with the pessimist in me. I groaned.

"Everything all right?" asked my Dad. "Yep" came the white lie, though I was scared stiff.

We stepped inside the building which was in a desolate condition. I could see girls all around me, sitting on the tables in the mess, looking up at me. I gulped. I hated being the 'newbie'. I could see them checking my clothes out, then my height, built. "Darn it!" I thought.

A scary looking woman came out and greeted us, she was the warden of the hostel. She asked me to fill up a form and then showed me a room on the first floor. With the paint peeling off and half the wood of the extremely small closet eaten by termites, the place had a gloomy and shabby feel to it. The only good thing about this room was... well, nothing good about the room save the view from the window.

"Umm...What say??" asked my Dad uncertain what to say. I replied with fake smile, "I like it, it's large, has a window and a bathroom as well." , "ya , a bathroom which smelled worse than a public 'sulabh complex'" was a thought I kept to myself.

"OK beta, Take care, study well, Don't worry, We are just one call away." said my Dad. "No, you guys are 10 hours and 755 Kms away. ", I thought. I gulped my tears back and smiled my fake smile again and kept it plastered on my face until his car was out of sight. I was all alone for the first time in my life. I had been dreading this moment ever since I made up my mind to come to this city for my college education. I dragged my feet to my small room on the first floor, aware that every girl around me was watching me with curiosity. I was sure I looked like a lost puppy.Correction, a lost puppy fighting tears. I reached my room and closed the door behind me and was all ready for a nice cry when i noticed another girl in my room. "OK, I'll save the tears for later." I thought.

She was my room partner. I had not anticipated that I will find my roomie this soon. I was somewhat glad and somewhat worried. "Hey." I said tentatively. She smiled at me. "OK, this one seems friendly." I thought.

"Hi. I'm Meera and you?" She asked.

"Sandhya Aneja, What's your full name?" I asked.

With a shrug of her shoulders she replied, "Meera. I don't have a surname. I like it this way." she said with a finality in her voice.

I thought keeping my mouth shut would be the best thing to do.

It wasn't that I was unfriendly but I felt a bit awkward around new people and it took me time to get over it. The cocooned atmosphere at home had done this to me. Meera seemed to be the same kind of person. We carried on unpacking and making our beds.

Later at dinner, I sat with a few other "freshies", they were good to talk to and kept my mind away from the fact that I was away from home and was eating horrendous mess food. OK, I knew I was eating ugly awful mess food with each bite. Never forgot about that.

After reaching my room, keeping the promise I had made to myself, I did cry myself to sleep, missing my nice fluffy soft pillow at home.

Next day, I got up early and got ready ahead of time to go register for my classes. Near the main staircase in college, I bumped in to a huge bunch of students, seniors. "Oops! sorry. Umm.. Can you tell me where the office area is." I said.

"Freshie ho??", came the reply.

"umm.. yes.", and at that, they started cheering and a few of them started circling me.

My common sense told me I was at the wrong place at wrong time. I stood still.

"Chal beta, introduce yourself.", said one guy with a wicked grin, "in shudhdh hindi."

That was just the beginning of ragging A.K.A "intro" as it is called in colleges these days.

And so I washed clothes, waited tables in canteen and mess, danced, sang, copied assignments and did God knows what just in the name of "intro".

For the next few weeks apart from seniors; teachers and a few fellow freshies made my life miserable. Introvert as I was, my only solace was the sanctuary of my room and when I wouldn't be running errands for seniors and working on infinite assignments, I would sit by the window and cry silent tears missing home and longing for the sense of belonging. In case my parents called from home, I would fill my voice with fake enthusiasm and tell them of my imaginary friends and whatever imaginary things I did with them.

My first assumption about Meera proved right and thus we talked only when it would be utterly necessary. And one month passed just like this.

Now atrocities by seniors lessened and I got used to the grueling schedule and the  heaps of assignments.Also my crying sessions by the window reduced.

But what remained was the loneliness I felt at times, as if I was standing still watching the world pass me by. And the worst thing about feeling lonely is that it turns seconds into minutes, minutes into hours...
Then this problem was remedied as well. During one lab-class I was paired with a bespectacled girl with wayward curly hair. She seemed quite friendly, and we talked, talked and talked for 2 hours while doing our work. I felt like everything I had kept bottled up in the past one month was spilling from my lips. She was a hosteler as well, and lived in the same hostel. I was amazed that I never saw her. Priyamvada was her name.
"So, are you gonna do this assignment tonight?", she asked at the end of the class.
"umm.. ya, may be."
"Hey!! Why don't we do it together, You can come to my room , if you want to, my roomie won't mind at all. " priyamvada suggested.
"ohk, its not like I've got anything to this evening"Isaid, "apart from sit all alone by the same old window, and look at the same old road with the same old people passing by", I thought.
That day I went to her room in the evening( abandoning my "sitting by the window" ritual) and met her roomie, Vaishali, who just like her was friendly and kind. Now whenever I would find spare time, I would go to their room and we would talk and joke and laugh. For the first time I had someone who I could call my friend in the hostel. And for the first time after I had come to the hostel, I started seeing it as a place where I belonged. And with passing time, the hostel building seemed less desolate and less gloomy and more lively.
That year on Diwali when we were all leaving for home, I felt like I was leaving my home. Everything about college and hostel was imprinted in my memories, the mess, library, classes, ragging and friends.
And I was looking forward to coming back to my 'home' away from home. 

Hero Worship

Why I am fascinated about these things,
What a pity, I can't get these things because there are no links.
I am fascinated by the most loved-by-all character 'Harry Potter',
"Wanna be like him" that's what I said forgetting it's me not Potter.
Coming to real life I thought I got a perfect match,
Me and Daniel J Radcilffe together rejoicing on England's victory at the last catch.
What a pity, I realised that it's not possible for me to have him,
He is a star, He is famous and I a normal girl far away in another country just dreaming about him.
Most of the teenager's like me definitely will be dreaming of a star,
To take them, they will come with red carpet, lights, cameras and a limo.
Sad that this beautiful dream in their eyes will remain a dream,
Hope it will not hurt much as this dream will be replaced by another dream.
Hope it will be easy to forget the fantasy world even though the characters are real,
Hope it will be easy to go back and leave being so much unreal.
At last may we get our perfect match but not a star as most of them are proud,
We will get our match as we girls knows how to confess aloud ;)

63 Years Of Freedom. Are We Really Free?

This 15 August, 2010, we are going to celebrate our 63rd Independence Day. Its been 63 years since we gained freedom from the claws of British Raj. There are going to be celebrations in Schools and Offices. Almost all the TV channels will do an Independence Day special. But one question that arise in my mind is that "Are we really free?".

Or are we still stuck in the chains of may social evils, prejudices, social divides etc. ?

We live in a country where we can get rid of a Rs. 500(my laptop doesn't have the new rupee symbol) traffic challan by bribing the traffic officer with Rs. 50. Where we can't get any of our work done without "chai-paani". Yes, corruption is one of the biggest problems faced by our country. And be it anything big or small we'll always find corrupt politicians and officers easily involved with it. Be it the 'Commonwealth Games' or the much popular 'Indian Premier League'.

Our political parties don't know any way other than 'bandhs' of protesting against anything. And these supposed peaceful 'bandhs' usually end with people gathering up and burning 'roadways buses' and breaking windshields of cars and trucks.

And when we thought 'Terrorism' is going to be a big problem to fight against, 'Naxalism' rose and spread through entire nation like forest-fire. Neither the government nor the armed forces were prepared for this and as a result we lost many jawaans at the hands of naxalites.

Poverty and Illiteracy have still not been dealt with. With the rich becoming richer and poor getting poorer, this rich-poor divide is becoming larger and larger with each passing day. And even today, though we claim that one day our nation is going to be a superpower, around 33% of the total population is still illiterate.

Talking of population, population explosion is also one of the major problems. As of April 2010, the total population in India was 1.18 billion.Already containing 17.31% of the world's population, India is projected to be the world's most populous country by 2025, surpassing China.

We can still see young children cleaning plate and serving meals in small 'dhabas' and restaurants when they should be studying in school. When they should have a book in their hands, not broomsticks.

Many politicians and political parties still use caste and religion as a means of attracting their 'vote-bank'. And if it does't work they use language, state, north-south etc. to divide people making mockery of the so called secular nation.

Then there's the Jammu and Kashmir Issue. After the unrest in 2008, the movement for separation has gained a boost.

Obviously there are many other problems faced by our country.We can only be free and completely Independent in the true sense of the word only after we get rid of these problems. We dream that we will be a strong country by 2020. The vision 2020. But going at this pace India is going to be a developed nation only after 2056(maybe later than that).

Now it is up to us (as we know almost all the leaders are good for nothing) that we work towards finding solutions to these problems and break free from this mesh of big and small problems. If we all work at individual level, the vision 2020 is quite achievable. We just have to work for it.

At last, Wishing a very Happy and Prosperous Independence Day to all the Indians out there. :)

Trapped

With my childhood Gone, I feel like I'm left with nothing,

standing on the shores of time all alone.

Forced to wear the veil of a woman, the girl inside flutters.

Gone the laughter, Gone the games, I'm just left with pain,

feels like after a long drought, I'm waiting for rain.

With all exits closed, I'm stuck where I am,

where I have always been.

Today, I find myself more trapped than a caged bird,

and the walls of the cage are closing in on me.

Suffocating me to sweet bliss that is death.

Misunderstanding

This is a true story.I met someone on a train, let's give her an imaginary name say Saatvika .Me and Saatvika,we both were getting bored in the long journey (no wonder,anyone would),so we started talking on different topics,be it politics,sports or celebrities and then came the most sensitive topic 'friendship' ,and we talked abut relationships and how a small misunderstanding rusts it.

Saatvika then started telling me about two of her very good friends who were good friends themselves became prey to a misunderstanding and now they barely talk to or about each other.Let's give them some name just to keep their identity a secret ,as this might hurt their feelings.They were called Mithila and Raagini.
Saatvika met Mithila and Raagini when she was in class 9,she was new in the school and both were already studying in the same school ever since they started schooling,Saatvika noticed one thing that both cared a lot for each other and seemed like best friends,soon Saatvika became friends with them,and many others ,all of them different in nature and liking but hanged around together because of the bond of friendship.
Then came along Anushka who became good friends with the entire group,Anushka or Anu for short was a good natured happy-go-lucky girl,and she instantly became great friends with Mithila and Raagini.At first Saatvika,Mithila,Raagini and Anu all used to sit together and do things together ,then slowly Saatvika started feeling ignored and no doubt she was ,because may be the other three felt and thought alike,but Saatvika never minded.Then Saatvika ,Anu and Mithila came to know that Raagini was suffering from blood cancer!!
They were all shocked ,but Raagini took a promise from three of them that they will not tell anyone and will never show pity for her.The topic of Raagini's illness never surfaced from then on until Raagini would be ill in school.
Then started the problem,Anu was closer to Mithila as they both lived nearby and went to the same tuition classes,a kind of trend amongst students.This kind of sparked jealousy in Raagini,not because she was possessive but because she wanted to be closer to Anu .She started behaving like jerks and voicing her jealousy.She would complain that they two are engrossed with each other and do not care for her,every time Saatvika would try to say the same to Raagini,something would stop her,so just to get her out of her foul mood she would divert her mind towards other things,but these tricks didn't worked for long and Raagini would take her anger out in paper with poems that would all say just one thing that nobody cares for her,this would hurt Saatvika a lot, because she really cared for her.Time passed with bits of arguments and bits of fun.The group passed class9 and moved on to class 10.
Things started well,but Raagini's jealousy overtook her sanity,and she would burst out on the other three that they don't need her and yet they never let her be alone.One day Raagini fell really ill at school and the other three were just trying to help,but she got really angry for no reason, slapped Mithila in front of the entire class and stomped out of the classroom.
Mithila though good at heart was a human being,and felt really bad about the slap and swore never to talk to Raagini again.Raagini knew in her heart that she did wrong but her ego stopped her from saying sorry.But she had her reasons for slapping Mithila ,though very unreasonable,which she told Saatvika later when they were all in class 12.She couldn't bear for the others showing excessive care for her,and mistook it to be pity,this thought maddened her and she directed all her anger towards Mithila.
Time passed and they both would talk at times when there was no choice and they had to communicate by any means.Then something happened which gave the final blow to the already broken frienship.
It was before winter break ,Mithila did a terrible mistake,she along with a few others tore a chart telling the class time table,especially the mathematics part.
Why mathematics I asked,Saatvika told me then ,that the chart was made by one of their classmates who was always linked with their mathematics teacher.
After the vacations when everyone came back to school,the same mischief created drama,the chart girl started crying and accusing another mischievous group,Mithila was absent,the classteacher was about to punish the accused girls,when Raagini stood up and told the truth,Saatvika tried to stop her .
Raagini was a girl with strong ethics,wnd had the courage to apeak against the wrong.Satvika knew her values well,but she thought it wasn't a good idea to tell the truth when the classteacher was in such a foul mood.
Mithila when came back to school got punished.She blamed Raagini for it,and then they never talked.She misunderstood Raagini and saw that she did it but never saw WHY she did it.If by any chance anyone took the name of the other in front of one they would change the topic.Raagini detached herself from Anu as she was close to Mithila,Saatvika remained friends with all as she was always neutral.
Then in the end of class 11,Mithila admitted that she acted and Raagini and Mithila both said they wanted to talk .
Saatvika arranged a meet for them an they both talked ,no doubt they talked,but talked like strangers do,had many things in their hearts to say,which never reached their tongue.
Even nw on meetings of the entire group,in parties they talk but never seem to enjoy each other's company,it seems as ifthey feel awkward around each other.
This was the end of a great friendship in a most undesirable manner.
They both misunderstood each other and thus they are still suffering.

The Other Side Of Horizon

Horizon is the apparent line which kind of forms a limit for us because we cant see beyond that line.Horizon is like a huge circle and all of us seem to be trapped in it.

Many people ask me why this name for blog,what it means?? This is an attempt on my part in answering that question .
Each and everyone of us has a social circle ,people we move around with ,our relatives,friends,colleagues,neighbors and many more.We know them and they are all in one way or the other a part of our lifestyle.So these people and whatever they do and we do is the above mentioned circle.They are our world or seem the world to you but that is what is apparent to us not reality.
There are other worlds which run in parallel,world of the people we don't know about.So they are on the other side of horizon for you.These may be our maid servant or the roadside vendor or our newspaper hawker,citizens of some other country may be.
So WE all must have a broader mind so as to see this world as our world,know people to make them a part of our life,we have to open the eyes of our minds to see beyond the horizon.
That is the only way by which we can see The Other Side Of Horizon.

She will come back

My friendship and acquaintance with animals dates back to the days when I was a kid and used to visit my family village. I loved animals and at our home in the village I used to find all sorts of animals, be it buffalo, or goat. My grandpa had a dog named Michael and my uncle had two dogs named Pepsi and Pluto . My uncle even had a monkey named Rani which means queen in Hindi.

Then , my father was transferred to another town where we lived in a quarter alloted to us by the firm in which my father worked , and there i befriended a cat and named her Manno । Later we moved from that town to another town.
here I found a pup who grew into a full size dog in 1 year in front of my eyes, although stray dogs don't really have names yet I used to call him Motu because he was the healthiest of all the other pups.But due to some reason we had to move to another house after one and a half year,but i think God always had a new animal friend for me ready at wherever we moved.So at our new home i found three beautiful white pups just 2 months after we moved there,i named them,Goru,Kannu and spotty according to their physical appearance.
These pups would usually stay around my home,and would start scratching the door of my house when they would be hungry.They slept in our balcony on the doormat.They were like those silent partners for me who would take all my pains,my griefs and problems from me.
Then they grew and stopped coming to my home,except one,Goru,who had always been my favourite amongst the three.
She was an all white bitch and had those beautiful eyes which seemed to plead for love.Always smiling ,she seemed,begging for love through her eyes.Goru would still seek refuge in and around my home, while the other two would be wandering on roads,looking for treasures on piles of dirt.
As time passed the bond between Goru and me grew stronger.I many a times asked my parents if we can keep her as a pet,but the answer would be straight NO.
"Dog is a big responsibility! Blah Blah!!"
But yet i would feed Goru with the leftover food and loved her as if she was mine.Then she became pregnant and around one year after i found her she gave birth to three beautiful pups.
But it was severe winters and wen her pups were around two weeks old one fell ill,i tried to take care but all in vain,and then,one day Goru was whining more than ever,it seemed as if she knew her pup is not well,and that's why she is whining.Then we realized that she wasn't whining because her pup was ill,she was whining because she herself was ill.We asked a vet and gave her the prescribed medication.but at night she had kind of an attack.and then at four in the morning started wailing,i wanted to run to her,tell her that she was fine ,and if she's not she will be fine.
But my mother said that what if she's dieing,would you want to see her die and terror of terrors struck me ,and i lied there,numb in my bed,eyes open,her beautiful eyes swarming in my eyes .
At the daybreak,I went to see if she was in the small house we had made for her but all I found was her Pups,looking for their mother.I went looking for her but never found her,living or dead.
Her pups died without her,despite all our care.People said she died somewhere farr from home and so he never came back,but I don't believe them.I still believe ,she is there somewhere pleading for love through those eyes,wagging her tail.And on e day or the other she will come back to me.yes,she will come back.

परेशानी और कहानी

आप लोग सोच रहे होंगे इससे अच्छा कोई title नही मिला क्या ?सोचिये सोचने का अधिकार अब आप को पर title आप बदल नहीं सकते क्योंकि मैंने तो येही title रखा है|इससे आप को कोई परेशानी है तो कोई कहानी जरूर बनेगी 'after all 'परेशानी के कारण ही तो कहानी बनती है |अब देवदास और पारो के प्यार से देवदास के खडूस बाप को परेशानी थी तो कहानी बनी...उस पर फ़िर तीन-तीन फिल्में भी बनी और खूब चली भी अब सोचिये अगर उस खडूस बाप को परेशानी नहोती तो बनती क्या कहानी...बनती क्या फिल्में .....फ़िर तो भाईसाहब उनकी हो जाती शादी और बस ख़तम कहानी बन भी जाती तो कौन पड़ता मैं तो नहीं आप का आप जाने ! अगर रोमियो और जूलियट मिल जाते बिना किसी problem के तो होते इतने famous ? अरे अपने लोकल हीर-रांझा etc. को ही ले लीजिये अगर हीर की बात रांझा से बन जाती तो होती कहानी|
पर जब जब किसी भी कहानी में आती है परेशानी हम परेशानी को ही कोसते हैं...मनहूस न जाने कहाँ से मुहँ उठा के चली आई...पर घर जी अगर आप के सास बहु वाले serial में कोमोलिका , रमोला, सिन्दूरा न हो तो आप को भी अपनी हिरोइन को इतना भावः न दे अरे मामूली सी घर की कहानी पर कौन ध्यान देता है |'कहानी घर घर की ' अब् कोई जरा मुझे बताये किस घर में ऐसा होता है जैसा एकता मैया दिखाती हैं पर यहाँ भी है पार्वती को परेशानी ,तभी तो है ये घर घर की कहानी(?)!
अब ज़रा सोचिए ये नेता लोग नेतागिरी करते हैं तभी तो बनती है अखबार के प्रथम पन्ने की कहानी क्यूँके इन नेताओ की so called नेतागिरी से होती है अखबार के एडिटर को परेशानी रिपोर्टर को परेशानी |कोई खाने में मिलावट करता है,और कहीं लोग भूखों मर रहे हैं ,सब परेशां है और बनती है कहानी,खबरिया चैनल पर बिना बात का बतंगड़ कहानी,चाहे लेख़क की दिल चूने वाली इमोशनल कहानी,और कहाँ से inspiration लाये बही बन्दा आज के इस बेदर्द ज़माने में??
मुझे भी न ये परेशानी और कहानी का चोली दमन का साथ खटक रहा था,तभी तो लिकी ये बेमतलब कहानी,अब देखिये न मुझे लिख के कुछ मिला,न आप को पढ़ के, तो अब हो गए न आप भी परेशान??
तो बहिठे क्यूँ है?? उठाइए कागज़ कलम और लिख डालिए कोई कहानी !

ज़ख्म

वो बुड्ढा उस पॉश कलोनो की पक्की सड़क पे नंगे पाँव चला जा रहा है |बोझ उसकी उम्र को भी मात देता मालूम पड़ रहा है |फिर भी वो खुश है , आज रात वो और उसका परिवार पेट भर के खाना खा के सोयेगा |आख़िर सेठ ने 'पचास' रुपए का वायदा किया है|बुड्ढा सोचता हुआ चला जा रहा है |येही सोच कर मन hii मन खुश हो रहा है की थोडी सी दाल और चावल ले लेगा और थोड़ा सा दूध भी अपने मिन्ना के लिए|एक बार फिर उसे बोरी के बोझ का ख्याल आता है |
बस एक बार सेठ की कोठी तक पहुँच जाए फिर घर की तरफ़ दौड़ पड़ेगा|घर का ख्याल आते ही वो फिर से सपनों की दुनिया में पहुँच जाता है |सचमुच कितनी सुंदर होती है ये सपनों की दुनिया ,न भूख से कुलबुलाती आंतें ,न आंसूं अपनी दयनीय स्थिति पे,बस खिलखिलाहट ,मुस्कान,खुशी|यही खुशी एक अपनी बेटी के चेहरे पे दिख रही है,जो पेट भर खाने के बाद अंगुलियाँ चाट रही है |पास ही खड़ी उसकी पत्नी देख रही है , मुन्ना को एक टूटे पालने में झूलते हुए |वो उसके कोमल हाथ पे हाथ रख देता है और बस उससे ये कहने ही जा रहा है की देखा बिना भीख मांगे काम कर के भी पेट भरा जा सकता है |
तभी उसकी तंद्रा भंग करते हुए एक कार सर्रर्र से गुजरती है |बुड्ढा सपने से हकीकत में लौट आया है |कार में मदमस्त युवक शराब के नशे में चूर हो झूम रहे हैं|कार से तेज़ पाश्चात्य संगीत की धुन शांत सड़क पे कार के साथ साथ बहती चली जा रही है |सभी युवक भले घरों के मालूम पड़ते हैं |उन्ही में से एक की नज़र बुद्धे से मिलती है |बस क्षण भर के लिए |फिर गाड़ी आगे जाती है| काफ़ी आगे|
वही युवक गाड़ी से हाथ बाहर निकाल एक कांच की बोतल बाहर फेंकता है|कांच तेजी से ज़मीन से टकरा कर सैंकडो टुकडों में टूट जाता है मानो रेत से बना कांच उस ही रेत से मिलन की खुशी में तड़प के नाच उठा हो|इस सब से बेखबर दूर से आ रहा है वो बुड्ढा उस कांच के करीब और करीब|वो तो बस अपने पचास रुपए के जोड़-तोड़ हिसाब-किताब में लगा है ,जो उसे अभी तक मिले भी नही हैं|शाम घिर आई है,बुद्धे की नज़र भी कुछ कमज़ोर है |पर वो चला जा रहा है| पल-पल अपने पचास रुपए के निकट बढ़ते हुए |
तभी सूरज की आखिरी किरण को चीरती हुई एक चीख पूरी कालोनी में गूँज उठती है |बुद्धे के पैर से खून बह रहा है और उसकी आंखों से आंसू बह रहे हैं|साथ बह रहे हैं, वो सपने ,वो पचास रुपए , वो दूध वो चावल , उसका मुन्ना, उसकी बेटी, उसकी पत्नी, और बह रही है उसकी मेहनत ,सुंदर सपनों की दुनिया , वो मुस्कान, वो खुशी|जो बह नही गया है वो है दर्द |पर दर्द पैर से बढ़ कर दिल में हो रहा है|कांच पैर में चुभा है पर कोई टूटा सपना दिल के भीतर जा धंस गया है |
वो अब देर से पहुंचेगा ,तो सेठ देरी से आने के कारण पैसे काटेगा |शायद चार आना भी ना दे , पचास रुपए तो दूर की बात है|
फिर अपने परिवार का ख़याल कर दर्द से कराहता हुआ वह उठ पड़ता है |हिम्मत कर के फिर से चलहै , बोरा उठाये |बस आगे कोने पे ही तो है सेठ की कोठी| वह कुछ समय लगा के लड़खडाता सा सेठ की कोठी पे पंहुंच जाता है |
सेठ के साथ एक युवक भी खडा है |मालूम पड़ता है की अबभी ही दोनों में बहस हुई है |सेठ काफ़ी नाराज़ दीखता है |बोरी को एक तरपफ रख बुड्ढा सेठ के आगे हाथ फैला देता है |ऐसा करते हुए उसे स्वयं पे क्रोध आ जात है |भला मेहनत की कमाई के लिए भी कोई हाथ फैलाता है |पर देरी से आने के कारण पैसे काटने के डर से वो हाथ पीछे नही खीचता है |सेठ गुस्से बुदबुदाये जा रहा है |पैसे काटने की बात कह रहा है |बुड्ढा इधर-उधर देखने लगता है की शायद सीधे सेठ की तरफ देखना सेठ के गुस्से में इजाफा ना कर दे |तभी बुद्धे की नज़र लड़के पे पड़ती है और लड़के की बुद्धे पर |वे दोनों एक दूसरे को पहचान जाते हैं |क्षण भर की उस मुलाक़ात को वो भूल ही चले थे|अब वह उनके मन में ताज़ा हो जाती है |
लड़का शर्म से सर झूका लेता है ,क्योंकि वह जानता है की बुद्धे ने उसे व उसके मित्रों को नशे में चूर देख लिया था |तब उसकी नज़र बुद्धे के लहूलुहान पैरों पे पड़ती है |कांच टूटने की आवाज़ लड़के कानों से होते हुए उसके भीतर समा उसे अन्दर से लहुलुहान कर देती है |उसके चेहरे के भाव बता रहे हैं की पाश्चत्य दुनिया के पीछे भागने में भी वो अपने कुछ संस्कार अभी तक नहीं भूला है |
अब वो और नीचे सर नहीं झुका सकता इसलिए पलट जात है |अब तक सेठ का बुदबुदाना कुछ कम हो गया है | फ़िर सेठ जेब से दस का नोट निकल के बुद्धे के फैलाये हाथों में रख देता है |और उस कमरे से चल देता है , बुड्ढा दर्द भरी नज़रों से दस रुपए को देखता है फिर जाने को मुड़ता है |तो लड़का उसे रोक के पैर में लगी चोट पे पट्टी करवाने को कहता है |
बुड्ढा ठिठक जाता है ,पहले उससे कभी इस आदर से बात नही की गई है |लड़का उसे कुर्सी पे बिठा देता है ,उसकी पट्टी करते हुए क्षमा याचना करता है |स्वयं द्वारा फेंकी गई शराब की बोतल के कारण उसका पैर ज़ख्मी होने की बात बताता है |
इस पर बुद्ध उसकी आंखों में झांकता है और कहता है की ' तुम्हारी बोतल से मेरा तो केवल पैर ज़ख्मी हुआ है ' इससे तुम्हारे पिता का दिलदर्द से और तुम्हारी आत्मा ग्लानी से ज़ख्मी होंगे, उन पर तो पट्टी भी न की जा सकेगी| '
बुड्ढा फिर जाने को उठता है |इस बार लड़का उसे फिर रोकता है |लड़का जेब से एक नया हज़ार का नोट निकलता है और बुद्धे ही ओरबढ़ा देता है |बुद्धे ने इससे पहले कभी हज़ार का नोट नहीं देखा है |वो उस नोट को एक बार बस एक बार चूना चाहता है |पर अपने पर काबू पाते हुए कहता है की अपनी मेहनत के ही पैसे लेता हूँ |मुझे क्षमा करना |इस पर लाडका कहता कई की 'यह आप की मेहनत के ही हैं ,आपने मुझे ग्लानी से बचाया है ,दर्द सहा है, अपमान सहा है |उसके लिए ये तो बहुत कम हैं |
बुड्ढा लड़के का मन रखने के लिए नोट ले लेता है |अब बुड्ढा अपने घर की तरफ़ मुड़ता है ओर लड़का अपने घर की तरफ़ |दोनों मुस्करा रहे हैं |दोनों के ज़ख्म भर गए हैं |