tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66092002024-03-05T12:51:37.490+05:30"Yet Again" - The unending recursionrahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-39679419289945509662011-02-10T02:18:00.002+05:302011-02-10T02:20:16.166+05:30एक डायरी के अधूरे पन्ने - 3<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; " ><span lang="hi"><span>यूँ</span> <span>बिन</span> <span>बताये</span> <span>चले</span> <span>ना</span> <span>जाया</span> <span>करो</span></span><span lang="en-gb"><span>,</span></span><br /><span lang="hi"><span>तुम्हारी</span><span></span> <span>आस</span><span></span> <span>में</span><span></span> <span>वक़्त</span><span></span> <span>का</span><span></span> <span>पता</span><span></span> <span>नहीं</span><span></span> <span>रहता</span></span><span lang="en-gb"><span>..</span></span><br /><span lang="hi"><span>तुमने</span><span></span> <span>कहा</span><span></span> <span>था</span><span></span> <span>इस</span><span></span> <span>बार</span><span></span> <span>आओगे</span><span></span> <span>तो</span><span></span> <span>कुछ</span><span></span></span><span lang="en-gb"> <span>surprise</span></span><span lang="hi"> <span>दोगे</span></span><span lang="en-gb"><span>..</span></span><br /><span lang="hi"><span>अब</span><span></span> <span>तो</span><span></span> <span>कैलेंडर</span><span></span> <span>भी</span><span></span> <span>ख़त्म</span><span></span> <span>हो</span><span></span> <span>गया</span></span><span lang="en-gb"><span>.</span></span></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-29075249450388395302010-11-09T02:24:00.000+05:302010-11-09T02:25:54.020+05:30एक डायरी के अधूरे पन्ने - 2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; "><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">उस डायरी के कुछ पन्ने अभी भी खाली हैं..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">कल यूँ ही कुछ पुरानी यादों की किवाड़ से ठोकर लग के गिर पड़ा था..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">वहीँ कहीं फर्श पे ये डायरी मिली..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">खोलते ही कुछ सर्द हवा में हंसी ठिठोली सुनाई दी..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">पड़ोस में खेलते बच्चे होंगे..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">हाँ वही होंगे...क्यूंकि पन्ने बोलते कहाँ हैं..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">कुछ चेहरे से लिखे थे उस डायरी में..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">नाम नहीं है..बस चेहरे हैं..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">पहले से बदले हुए नज़र आते हैं..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">शायद पीले पन्ने होंगे..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">हाँ वही होंगे..क्यूंकि चेहरे बदलते कहाँ हैं..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">इन खाली पन्नों में से भी कुछ इंक के दाग नज़र आते हैं</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">ऐसा लगता है की इनपे भी कुछ लिखावट थी..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">पर वक़्त की कुछ बारिशों ने शायद स्याही का रंग उड़ा दिया</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">शायद खाली पन्ने ही होंगे..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">हाँ वही होंगे..क्यूंकि लिखे पन्नों का रंग उड़ता कहाँ है..</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "><br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; ">उस डायरी के कुछ पन्ने अभी भी खाली हैं..</p><div><br /></div></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-41950609307466459522009-09-18T14:43:00.002+05:302009-09-18T15:48:07.518+05:30Lie with me..They were tired of spending time in that mall. It was a Sunday afternoon and a social norm was that couples of their age went out together and shopping. They had been following this for long and were now pretty bored of it. "I want to go and check out the new collection of jewellery in that store", said she. He didn't seem too interested but did not let that appear on his otherwise stagnated face . Maybe these are the virtues of a good husband that he had learnt from 17 years of his marriage. "Lets go..maybe they have that designer ring that you were looking for!". She didn't seem too pleased with the comment. She knew it was a taunt coming from him as the last time she had gone looking for that perfect design that she wanted but none of them would fit her finger. Maybe the cold was making her fingers a bit fatter, she thought. In any case she still wanted to try if she could that ring for herself and decided to go ahead inspite of his taunts.<br /><br /><br />He had decided to look for some good trousers instead of being with her while she shopped and told her so. She didn't mind it. Maybe she wanted that peace too. Back then it was an arranged marriage and soon after they had developed a comfortable and extremely loving relationship. So many years and now with their daughter having moved out of their place, it sure had become lonelier.<br /><br /><br />She had been trying all those rings at the jewellery counter of the store but seemingly again none of them fit her. She felt depressed. An urge to go back home sprang up in her and she looked around for him. Not having found him she went back to the trousers section to wait for him there. He came out of the trial room with a disgruntled look on his face. The trousers wouldn't fit him again. It was no use shouting at the salesman as he had done last time. They looked at each other. She had grown wrinkles and his paunch begged to tell his age.<br /><br /><br />She went close and they both hugged each other tightly.<br /><br /><br />He liked the smell of her hair. She knew that his arms always fit her perfectly.rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-48987054412229960612009-08-22T05:32:00.003+05:302009-08-22T05:42:50.031+05:30Of Ghalib and of wishes..ना था कुछ तो खुदा था, कुछ ना होता तो खुदा होता, डुबोया मुझको होने ने, ना होता मैं तो क्या होता.<br /><span class="text_exposed_show">हुई मुददत के ग़लिब मर गया, पर याद आता है, वो हर एक बात पे कहना के "यूँ होता तो क्या होता"..<br /></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-47962840035208328262009-07-24T01:15:00.001+05:302009-07-24T01:17:44.375+05:30जिंदा हूँ..<span style="font-style: italic;">कोई नहीं, कोई भी नहीं जो बतलाये,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">कितनी देर उजालों की राह देखें</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">कोई नहीं, है कोई भी नहीं</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ना पास ना दूर..<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">एक यार है दिल की धड़कन</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">अपनी चाहत का जो ऐलान किये जाती है</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ज़िन्दगी है जो जिए जाती है</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">खून के घूँट पिए जाती है</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">ख्वाब काँटों से सिये जाती है..</span><br /><br /><from>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-85446747198289041782009-07-14T04:09:00.003+05:302009-07-14T04:18:12.299+05:30जागती रातें..<strong style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">जी</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> ढूंढ़ता है घर कोई दोनों </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">जहां</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> से दूर,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"> ना आपकी ज़मीन</span>, <span style="font-weight: normal;">ना</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">मेरे</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"> आसमां का नूर</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">..</span> </strong></strong>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-62965428415836848252009-07-04T17:40:00.006+05:302009-07-04T21:34:37.243+05:30ना जाने क्यूँ..<span style="font-style: italic;">कुछ</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">दर्द</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">सा</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">था</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">सीने</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">में</span><span style="font-style: italic;">, </span><span style="font-style: italic;">कुछ</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">थी</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">इन</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">आखों</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">को</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">तलाश</span><span style="font-style: italic;">,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">कुछ</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">तेरे</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">आने</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">से</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">पहले</span><span style="font-style: italic;">, </span><span style="font-style: italic;">कुछ</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">तेरे</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">जाने</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">के</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">बाद</span><span style="font-style: italic;">..</span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-27495681725223607112009-07-01T22:14:00.004+05:302009-07-02T02:27:16.084+05:30What Dreams May Come..I took off all the posters on my wall mercilessly...some of those sticky notes as well on which were written the randomest of things ever thought of. I don't know why I was in such a hurry. I shoved my stuff in some suitcase..ended up with a couple of handbags as well. I walked out of my room only to find absolutley no one around. I waited but for some reason, the whole campus is deserted. Zilch. I pulled along with my stuff trying to spot a face, familiar or otherwise -anyone..but cannot. I reached the end of hostel corridors and the last I remember is turning back to still expect someone, anyone. I wake up.<br /><br />And this was not it..I have been having the weirdest of dreams for the past few days. Not so normal for someone who is used to a dreamless sleep for a majority of his life. Definitely the occasional good and the occasional bad ones are there but never with such frequency and never with such consistency in their outcome. To think of this as an aberration is something I have been forcing myself to do but how do I convince myself ? I was once told that you cannot dream of your own death in your sleep and thats because your brain interprets is as the "death" event and stops functioning. Seemingly, the brain has no issues in coming close to that event or atleast thats what it made me feel. Is it all an outcome of change? Blunt as it is, I have forced myself to change beyond my wishes. It does make me look back at a different me often asking questions to which I have no answers.<br /><br />Why but then the other day I dreamed of a future life where I tried calling up people to meet...to see them once but they did not agree. It all came back to me...the convenience of being around people and a chatter here and there only because it was in the moment, it happened. And as soon as that convenient relationship ceased to exist, I seemingly vanished in thin air. And what about the one where I just dreamt of being in a pit and shouting for help. I think I saw faces, known faces and I begged, I pleaded to get me out but they did not. Maybe they did not hear me or maybe thats what I chose to believe... All I know is if I were to do a Freudian interpretation of my dreams, its not at all pleasant.<br /><br />How vulnerable can you be to have these desperately obvious dreams? What separates the courageous attitude from a <span style="font-style: italic;">stuck-in-reverse </span>life? I have reached a phase in the life for the third time when I am as nostalgic about God knows where and what as I ever could be.<br /><br />The last one, I dreamt of a walk. A long walk and I am talking, baring all that I know, all that I wish and all that I want. It seemed I had never been so frank...not even to myself as I was being then. I saw the Water tank from this campus...I saw a familiar coffee place. And then I turned to see who was I talking to.<br /><br />There was no one. I had a bleeding arm and a lit cigarette.rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-18654575000897800892009-06-25T05:24:00.002+05:302009-06-25T05:31:48.232+05:30एक डायरी के अधूरे पन्ने - 2सहमा सहमा डरा सा रहता है,<br />जाने क्यूँ जी भरा सा रहता है..<br />एक पल देख लूँ तो उठता हूँ,<br />जल गया सब,<br />ज़रा सा रहता है..<br /><span></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-76646438322446174642009-06-18T10:42:00.010+05:302009-06-18T12:53:35.306+05:30..एक डायरी के अधूरे पन्ने.<em>कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहां नहीं मिलता,<br />कहीं ज़मीन तो कहीं आसमां नहीं मिलता.. </em><br /><br /><em>जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है,<br />जुबां मिली है मगर हम जुबां नहीं मिलता.. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>तेरे जहां में ऐसा नहीं की प्यार न हो,<br />जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी, वहाँ नहीं मिलता..</em>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-55978560472361574562009-06-13T14:19:00.004+05:302009-06-13T14:35:10.126+05:30Worth.Less.A story well written across the margins of an over-read tattered book called life. The plunders of a job, you thought, well done. The moments you pawned in the hopes of leading a worldly pursuit. And the faceless voices that mock the riches you thought were yours. Was it worth it after all?rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-10597308956035990862009-05-27T11:50:00.003+05:302009-05-27T12:01:43.219+05:30It’s not easy to be me..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYoedRejHJ8&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYoedRejHJ8&feature=related</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I can’t stand to fly,<br />I’m not that naive..<br />I’m just out to find<br />The better part of me..<br /><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I’m more than a bird…I’m more than a plane<br />More than some pretty face beside a train<br />It’s not easy to be me<br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I wish that I could cry<br />Fall upon my knees<br />Find a way to lie<br />'bout a home I’ll never see <br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">It may sound absurd…but don’t be naive<br />Even Heroes have the right to bleed<br />I may be disturbed…but won’t you concede<br />Even Heroes have the right to dream<br />It’s not easy to be me <br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Up, up and away…away from me<br />Well it’s all right…You can all sleep sound tonight<br />I’m not crazy…or anything… <br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I can’t stand to fly<br />I’m not that naive<br />Men weren’t meant to ride<br />With clouds between their knees <br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I’m only a man in a silly red sheet<br />Digging for kryptonite on this one way street<br />Only a man in a funny red sheet<br />Looking for special things inside of me <br />inside of me ...... inside of me ...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I’m only a man in a funny red sheet<br />I’m only a man looking for a dream<br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I’m only a man in a funny red sheet<br />It’s not easy ... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">It’s not easy to be me...</span></span></div></div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-54088201375903128252009-05-20T11:13:00.005+05:302009-05-20T14:02:21.388+05:30एक कहानी..<span class=""></span><br />बात शायद उन दिनों की है जब मैं class 5th या 6th में था। पता नहीं क्यूँ लेकिन हमेशा मुझे सड़क के किनारे दिखाए जानऐ वाले जादू टोने या फिर किसी सपेरे के साँप का खेल या ऐसे ही बाकी बचकाने दिखने वाले खेल तमाशों का शौक रहा था। हाँ, बन्दर का खेल देखना मैंने तब बंद कर दिया था जब ऐसे ही एक बार एक मदारी का तमाशा देखते देखते बन्दर ने मुझपे झपट कर मेरे हाथ पे एक अपने प्रेम भाव की निशानी छोड़ दी थी। शायद आपके भी हाथ पे टाँके लगेंगे तो सारा पशु पक्षी प्रेम वहीँ धरा का धरा रह जाएगा। खैर, ऐसी चीज़ों की तरफ़ मेरा बढ़ता ध्यान देख के घर वालों ने मुझे काफी पहले से ही समझाना शुरू कर दिया था की ये सब तमाशे जादू वगैरह सब हाथ की सफाई होती है और शायद घर में सबका थोड़ा religious bent of mind होने की वजह से भी शायद मुझे यही सिखाया गया था की किसी भी चमत्कार पे भरोसा करने से पहले उसकी सच्चाई को जानने की कोशिश करो। एक १०-११ साल के लड़के को इतनी बातें समझ में आती होती तो शायद आधे नोबल पुरस्कार अंडर-२० मिला करते...सो भूमिका बांधते बांधते मैंने शायद आपको ये समझा दिया की मुझे ये सब बहुत पसंद था!<br /><br />जहाँ तक मुझे याद पड़ता है, स्कूल से ही लौट रहा था। सड़क के किनारे भीड़ देखी तो मन मचल उठा। पास जाने पे पता चला की कोई बाप बेटे की टोली है और कुछ तो खेल तमाशे दिखा के लोगों से पैसे बटोरना चाह रहे हैं। शायद हमेशा से यही सीखा था की ये जादू, ये चमत्कार कुछ नहीं होता और जो लोग दिखाते हैं वो बस लोगों को उल्लू बनाना चाह रहे होते हैं, सो इसी वजह से ऐसे किसी भी खेल को मैंने उतनी ही skepticism से देखा है जितनी एक मेरी उम्र के बच्चे के बस में था। मुझे छोटा होने का एक फायेदा ज़रूर मिला की मैं किसी तरह इधर उधर से निकल के, सबसे आगे पहुँच गया। तब शायद वो एक खली गिलास में दूध भर जाने वाला जादू दिखा रहे थे। मैंने ये कई बार देखा था और शायद मेरे आस पास खड़े लोगों ने भी। तभी तो कोई सिक्के फेंके जाने की आवाजें भी नहीं आई। दरअसल ऐसे खेल दिखने में जो गिलास या जो भी accessories काम में आती थी वो आते जाते किसी न किसी मेले में कोई एक आध दुकानदार बेच ही रहा होता था। मेरी अपनी ही कहानी थी, मैंने शायद तभी ही कुछ दिन पहले "छोटा जादूगर" नाम का सीरियल देखा था, शायद कुनाल खेमू का पहले टीवी सीरियल, सो कुछ वैसा ही देखना चाह रहा था। उस बाप बेटे की जोड़ी ने फिर से कुछ खेल दिखाना शुरू किया। इस बार एक हाथ में सिक्का रख के दूसरे हाथ में अचानक से उसके आ जाने जैसा कुछ था। लोगों में थोडी सी भी उत्सुकता जैसा कुछ नहीं बचा था। मौसम की भी शायद इसमे भागी दारी थी। दोपहर के २ बजे, चमचमाती धुप में घर के बाहर बहुत ज़्यादा लोग नहीं पाये जाते।<br /><br />मुझे बुरा लगा रहा था उस बाप बेटे की जोड़ी के लिए, पर अपनी तरफ़ से मैं असहाय ही था। न ही मेरे पास अपनी गुल्लक थी जो की मैं कुछ पैसे निकाल के उन्हें दे देता और न ही मुझे घर से पैसे मिलते थे बाहर कुछ खाने के लिए। हम पढ़े लिखे लोगों का एक बहुत पुराना तरीका होता है किसी भी तरह के guilt से अपने आप को अलग करने का। हम बहाने ढूंढ लेते हैं की हम फलां काम इसलिए नहीं कर पाये या उस वजह से नहीं कर पाये। खैर जो भी था, शायद उन बाप बेटे की लाचारी कुछ हद्द तक मेरी समझ में आ रही थी। इतन गर्मी में, नंगे पाँव नंगे बदन कोई भी बाप अपने बेटे को नहीं देख सकता। गरीब शब्द का मतलब शायद हम कभी इतनी गहराई से नहीं समझ सकते जितना की ये देख के की जब ८ साल का एक लड़का अपने बाप की गोद में लोरी सुनके सोता हुआ नहीं बल्कि बाप के इशारों पे इधर से उधर कूदता हुआ फांदता हुआ....दर्शकों का ध्यान बांटने की कोशिश कर रहा है। क्यूंकि शायद उसे इस बात का एहसास है की अगर आज इस तमाशे के बाद पैसे नहीं मिले तो उसके घर में कोई भी खाना नहीं खा पायेगा॥<br /><br />लोगों को जाता देख उस बाप के दिल में ना जाने क्या आया की वो ज़ोर से चिल्लाया..."आज आपको दिखाऊंगा पहली बार, एक ऐसा चमत्कार जो कर देगा किसी की बोलती बंद। कलकत्ते का जादू है ये आपके शेहेर में नहीं पहले आया। जिसमे है हिम्मत, वो आगे आए....और फिर देखे अपनी आवाज़ को मेरी मुट्ठी में समाये"। एक निहायत ही पतला दुबला आदमी आगे आया पर शायद कुछ लोगों को शक हुआ और उन्होंने कहा की ये तुम्हारा ही आदमी लगता है, ओई और ढूंढो। उस तमाशाई की आँखें भर आई थीं। शायद उसे पता चल चुका था की आज फिर उसके घर में चूल्हा नहीं जलेगा। हार के मरी सी आवाज़ में उसने कहा की है किसी में दम जो आगे आए। लोग उसके फन को मानने को तैयार तो नहीं ही थे पर ख़ुद किसी में हिम्मत भी नहीं थी। शायद डरते थे की कहीं सच में आवाज़ चली गई तो। पता नही मेरे दिल में क्या आया, की शायद जब मेरे ऊपर वो अपना जादू नहीं चला पायेगा तो उसका भांडा फ़ुट जाएगा या फिर यूँ ही अपने आप को एक जादू के खेल में शामिल होता देखने की ख्वाहिश ने मुझे अपना हाथ उठाने पे मजबूर कर दिया।<br /><br />वो जादूगर की कुछ समझ में नहीं आया, उसने मेरी तरफ़ घूर के देखा। उसने अपने बेटे को हाथ में कुछ काला कपड़ा देके कुछ समझाया और उसका बेटा मेरे पास आ खड़ा हुआ। बाप और बेटा शायद दोनों ही जानते थे की इस खेल का कोई फायेदा नहीं है इसलिए मन मसोस के ही उसने अपने बेटे से कहा की मेरे हाथ पे काला कपडा बाँध दे. वो चिल्लाया की उसके तीन तक गिनते ही मेरी आवाज़ बंद हो जायेगी और मैं अभी भी वापस जाना चाहूं तो जा सकता हूँ। शायद डर सा गया था की कहीं लोग फेंके हुवे पैसे भी न उठा लें। पर पता नहीं मेरे मन में कया था की मैं वहीँ रुका रहा। आख़िर इतना तो जानता ही था की ऐसा कुछ होना मुमकिन ही नहीं था इसीलिए शायद डर भी नहीं लगा।<br /><span class=""></span><br /><span class="">कांपती आवाज़ में उसने कहा "एक...दो..." मेरी नज़र उसके बेटे के पेट पे गई...जिस</span>पे मांस कम और हड्डियाँ ज़्यादा नज़र आ रही थी। "तीन...!!!"<br /><br />..और मैं गूंगा बन गया ।।rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-85238650501830633482009-05-12T20:12:00.003+05:302009-05-12T20:17:36.269+05:30Friendship - A plagiarized essay that wrote me<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Friendship is an involuntary reflex. <br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />I have always been big on friendship. Disproportionately big. I guess in most normal and structured lives everything fits in their own beautiful, snug, appropriate little places, and friendship has its own feel-good and convenient slot, rather like the best guest room in the house, just east of and one level down from the splendid master bedroom of eternal love. But for me, it has been different, and sometimes it feels like my house of life has been built pretty much with the dubious cement of real and assumed friendships. It has found its insidious way into the foundation plinth, the pillars, the floor, walls and roof. Its presence so ubiquitous, that it has perhaps turned completely unhealthy. Not just for me, but also for my family, my romantic interests and even occasionally for some of my more unfortunate friends. Like some, who love(d) me more intensely than others - or perhaps hate(d) me more despairingly than most - said: "Your friend fixation will ruin your life, sweetheart. Get a perspective!" Ah well. Advise. Often the worst gift from the best-intentioned folks. <br /><br />Friendship. Such a feel good word, conjuring up images nice and warm: get-togethers full of resonant laughter and palpable happiness in some warm, summer evening, on an open terrace somewhere far away from the city bustle; shared beers and confidences in a dark and cozy pub, as the skies open up in a torrential downpour outside and the jukebox plays an old Doobie Brothers favorite; shoulder to shoulder, battling common odds, and the euphoria of victories earned together, or even the shared blue note of an occasional setback; an open road, wind in the hair, a sense of freedom, togetherness. <br /><br />Yes, good times. With some people it's just easier to find than with others, I guess. And perhaps given a simple spark of potential affinity between two people, sometimes everything else in the universe conspires to push them together as friends. Maybe they would share the same immediate future, having met on the first day in a new college hostel. Maybe they share a common interest, finding the deepest connection in their love for Pearl Jam and Eddie Vedder's grungy, dark tones. Maybe they fight for the same cause, espousing it with the same intensity, at least for the next few years and until something else catches at least one of their fancy. Or maybe its much more subtle, like just a particular sense of humor, that makes conversations easy, fun, relaxed, natural. And a bond is struck, unsullied by expectations or anxieties that mar almost every new romantic liaison, free of the desparate burden of duties that family can often impose. Another friendship is born. Another journey begins.<br /><br />And while the good times do certainly roll for most such friendships as the wheels of time trundle along, I suppose the nature of every friendship finds unique character in the way it evolves. The earth grows older, and we grow with it, each in our own unique ways, sometimes so slow, sometimes faster, and our friendships change and grow with us. Some friendships ignite and then die away real quick, forever forgotten. Some spit and sputter, like a damp wood trying to catch fire, but carry on regardless, for far longer than you could imagine. Some turn darker with age, growing painful like an ingrown toenail, poisoned by our own frustrations, misunderstandings and jealousies. And only a few grow roots that inexorably keep digging deeper and deeper into our souls, friendships that sometimes outlast a lifetime. But hey, those are the rare ones. Most of your friendships today, despite the joy it brings you now, will most probably fade away the day after tomorrow, leaving just a unique set of footprints in the slowly shifting sands of your life.<br /><br />Such a tragedy. Nothing lasts forever, I suppose, and not just in the cold November rain. <br /><br />And as the earth spins around, days pass slowly by, and years flash past, I try and not lose sight of my own self, as I myself grow, change, and morph, sometimes willingly and in directions that I want to explore, and other times unwittingly, along ways from where I struggle to return. And when I find time to breathe, I look around me, and see everything and every one of my friends change too. Some grow in different ways than I, veering off in directions that shall never be mine. Some get lost, mired in the quicksands of frustrations, misfortunes, self loathing, and pride. Them I watch, in futile sadness, trying to clutch on to the fond memories of the good times together, yet somehow dispassionate at the silent end of an era of friendship, resigned to a strange portent of inevitability. Other friends, miraculously somehow, remain, changing spontaneously also in the pretty much the same ways as I do, across the tortuous terrains of time, in step, in spite of long periods of separation, or despite intense shared tribulations that strain the relationship's every fibre. More out of accident than out of any individual effort of our own engineering, these are the friendships I remain thankful for. <br /><br />And I realize, not only are true friendships born of involuntary reflex, but they are, in spite of all differences of our unique circumstances of evolution and misguided wanderings across life in search for our own identities, ultimately the true gifts of our destiny. Raise a glass of cheer with me, my friends, past, present and future, who read this now, in a toast to that most treasured accident of our fates: friendship!"</span></span></span></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-31281556535291897302009-05-12T19:43:00.002+05:302009-05-12T19:55:58.438+05:30Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:verdana;font-size:11px;"><pre style="font: normal normal normal 11px/normal verdana; line-height: 16px; padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 10px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(44, 91, 138); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; white-space: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you<br />Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you..<br />I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down<br />I want to come too..<br /><br />I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you..<br /><br />No one understands me quite like you do<br />Through all of the shadowy corners of me..<br /><br />I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop<br />I love so much..<br />All of the while I never knew<br />I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop<br />I love so much..<br />All of the while I never knew<br /><br />I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you<br />Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.<br />I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine<br />Now I'm shining too<br /><br />Because oh because<br />I've fallen quite hard over over you<br /><br />If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know<br />If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone<br /><br />I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop<br />I love so much..<br />All of the while I never knew<br />I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop<br />I love so much..<br />All of the while, I never knew<br /><br />All of the while , all of the while<br />It was you..</span></span><br /></pre></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-7686916858163692072009-05-08T12:31:00.007+05:302009-05-08T13:18:53.373+05:30How hard can it be to pen down your thoughts in to one cohesive paragraph. Few minutes, few hours, few days? Tried changing languages...starting off on atleast 6 different thought offshoots. Nothing worked. Nothing works. Its definitely not a writer's block...for when was i a <em>writer</em> anyway. There are things about the place, the people, the ways - everything - that need a good description for myself to be reminded of in the later years.<br /><br />And staring at the screen for 20 mins now...but nothing...zilch. I should stop writing at all.rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-25399962860237803902009-04-25T01:12:00.002+05:302009-04-25T01:33:31.487+05:30There is so much that I have to write, that I must write, just get out of me. But I don't know what is keeping me from it. As of now, its 4 A.M. I should be long asleep but I am not. And for some reason its music again that has taken over me right now. And lost in it I just wonder about all those who know me, if they know me at all. <div><br /></div><div>I shall have a regret though. They never understood me. They thought they did but they never did. I wish this was not the case.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />I dreamed a dream in time gone by<br />When hope was high<br />And life worth living<br />I dreamed that love would never die<br />I dreamed that God would be forgiving<br />Then I was young and unafraid<br />And dreams were made and used and wasted<br />There was no ransom to be paid<br />No song unsung, no wine untasted<br /><br />But the tigers come at night<br />With their voices soft as thunder<br />As they tear your hope apart<br />And they turn your dream to shame<br /><br />She slept a summer by my side<br />She filled my days with endless wonder<br />She took my childhood in her stride<br />But she was gone when autumn came<br /><br />And still I dream she'll come to me<br />That we will live the years together<br />But there are dreams that cannot be<br />And there are storms we cannot weather<br /><br />I had a dream my life would be<br />So different from this hell I'm living<br />So different now from what it seemed<br />Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-1235048245922881982009-04-04T22:41:00.002+05:302009-04-04T22:44:21.735+05:30Nervous sigh..It all seems like a mirage. I have no clue why. It was real till sometime back. But something stole it.rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-48381980405196599692009-04-01T13:37:00.003+05:302009-04-01T13:45:31.074+05:30And then she found..<span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to confide in,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to lean on,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to shout at,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to be liked by,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to love, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person to hate, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person who would understand,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She looked for that one person who would protect,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But she looked for that one person.</span><br /><br />And then she found them.rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-35149453743055948632009-03-26T23:18:00.005+05:302009-03-26T23:27:02.005+05:30Anonymous Speak..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><div><br /></div>"Inherent inability to accept the truth often results in situations that destroy the sanctity of the past. For as soon as the future misaligns itself from the past, a new untreaded path is visible. There are few who walk on it and achieve what they set out to but forgot that they always wanted to. And then there are others who are never talked about." - Anon.</span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-63540857533904738872009-03-25T04:44:00.002+05:302009-03-25T04:54:03.463+05:30Meet Me on the Other Side..<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/07N_v7Q1A1s&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/07N_v7Q1A1s&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(71, 71, 71); line-height: 23px; font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07N_v7Q1A1s">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07N_v7Q1A1s</a><br /></div><div><br /></div>Meet me on the other side<br />Meet me on the other side<br />I'll see you on the other side<br />See you on the other side<br /><br />Honey now if I'm honest<br />I still dont know what love is<br />Another mirage folds into the haze of time recalled<br />And now the floodgates cannot hold<br />All my sorrow all my rage<br />A tear that falls on every page<br /><br />Meet me on the other side<br />Meet me on the other side<br /><br />Maybe I oughta mention<br />Was never my intention<br />To harm you or your kin<br />Are you so scared to look within<br />The ghosts are crawling on our skin<br />We may race and we may run<br />Well not undo what has been done<br />Or change the moment when its gone<br /><br />Meet me on the other side<br />Meet me on the other side<br />I'll see you on the other side<br />I'll see you on the other side<br /><br />I know it would be outrageous<br />To come on all courageous<br />And offer you my hand<br />To pull you up on to dry land<br />When all I got is sinking sand<br />The trick aint worth the time it buys<br />I'm sick of hearing my own lies<br />And loves a raven when it flies<br /><br />Meet me on the other side<br />Meet me on the other side<br />I'll see you on the other side<br /><br />Honey now if Im honest<br />I still dont know what love is..</span></span>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-61549736542215502022009-03-23T18:40:00.005+05:302009-03-23T19:07:08.730+05:30A Life Wrap please..!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"Another mirage folds into the haze of time recalled,</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">And now the floodgates cannot hold"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>As a kid he was like most others, maybe better. </div><div><br /></div><div>Get up, go to school, be the ideal student - the good friend, come back, do the homework, rush off to play, come back, watch TV and sleep. And then he grew up. And he grew up to be this man sans ideals. He grew up to be a fake. He grew up to be someone even he didn't want to be. </div><div><br /></div><div>He missed his childhood. But they said he had a great life. And then he fell. And then he died.</div><div><br /></div><div>His childhood misses him now.</div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-15396982611869179562009-03-20T05:47:00.002+05:302009-03-20T05:49:35.352+05:30Aisi Sazaa..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; ">Aisi Sazaa Deti Hawaa<br />Tanhaai Bhi Tanha Nahi<br />Neendein Bhi Ab Sone Gayeen<br />Raaton Ko Bhi Parwaah Nahi<br /><br />Aise Mein Baarish Ki Boondon Se </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; ">Apni Saanson Ko Sehla Bhi Do<br />Badhti Hawaaon Ke Jhonko Se </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; ">Dil Ko Naghma Koi La Bhi Do<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Palkon Ki Koro Pe Baithi Nami Ko<br />Dheeme Se Pighla Bhi Do<br /></span><br />Ye Zindagi Aisi Hi Thi<br />Tumne Kabhi Jaana Nahi<br /><br />Jeevan Ki Raahon Mein Aana Ya Jaana<br />Bataake Nahi Hota Hai<br />Jaate Kahin Hain Magar Jaante Nahi<br />Ki Aana Wahin Hota Hai<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Khone Ki Zid Mein Ye Kyun Bhoolte Ho<br />Ki Paana Bhi Hota Hai<br /></span><br />Wo Pal Abhi<br />Waisa Hi Hai<br />Chhoda Tha Jo<br />Jaisa Wahin</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;">Aisi Sazaa Deti Hawaa<br />Tanhaai Bhi Tanha Nahi<br />Neendein Bhi Ab Sone Gayeen<br />Raaton Ko Bhi Parwaah Nahi..<br /></span></div></div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-24764020623934904332009-03-18T19:15:00.005+05:302009-03-18T19:51:39.242+05:30You're the first oneWith a tired look and a heavy head..he gazed at the door from where she had left. There was no reason required - for when perceptions are mere expectations, reality is but the perception. He could not remember how long it had been. A minute or ten? An hour maybe? Few days...lifetime? The excruciating feeling in his chest made it clear that he could not have survived that long and he merely tried to guess.<div><br /></div><div>They had met at the Visa office, the most uncommon of places anyone would meet anyone worth remembering. But they did. A two hour wait in the queue and then running around the place for a reappointment -because they both had been so involved in chatting around with each other that they missed their respective interviews - made it worth remembering. And they did.</div><div><br /></div><div>Relationships are funny. Unexplainable and unbelievable connections are attributed to this one word. And so did they. While one drank coffee, even though she didn't like it a single bit; the other started appreciating the difference between a Mid-low rise and a Mid-very low-mid rise jeans. And all this in a way that other was not supposed to know. The talks ranged from roses to weather to politics to love to people to indifferences. </div><div><br /></div><div>It had been merely more than a couple of weeks but seemed like a couple of years. Not that they knew anything and everything about each other but it didn't matter. Whenever they talked, they knew the person they were talking to. And it felt like a recollection of everything in their own hearts and minds. </div><div><br /></div><div>She was very excited today. More than he had ever seen her. He couldn't help being happy for her for that's how it had always worked for him - not knowing what he was happy for but knowing that she was. "Thank You", he looked up and said to someone high up there who he recently started believing in. She said she wanted to talk to him about something and would tell him if he made her a nice coffee! </div><div><br /></div><div>It was only while making coffee in the kitchen, he felt that he was falling in love with her. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happier than she ever was. "Then maybe this is it", he thought to himself. "I am leaving, have to run! Something for you on the table!!", she shouted and he heard her footsteps, leaving. His heart almost stopped. Had she been thinking the same thing? He almost thought about telling it to her but had not thought if he actually would. He felt scared. Nervous. Wanted to shout to stop her but could not gather his voice together.</div><div><br /></div><div>He went out. There was a wedding invitation on the table. It also said in handwritten letters - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"For the first invitee"</span>.</div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6609200.post-70216889024976344162009-03-12T03:57:00.005+05:302009-03-12T05:16:38.562+05:30थम जा..How many times have you wished that time could stop? And just so that the moment of pleasure, the moment of realization (or maybe even pain) is long enough to last a lifetime. Funny that we can find inspirations from books, movies, idols...funnier that sometimes it all comes from within. If everything really was within, unleashing it shouldn't have been so difficult. Momentary lapses I call them. Long enough for making some hours of your life <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">worthwhile</span> and short enough to still let the persistent <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">undertone</span> prevail.<div><br /></div><div>Still what justifies writing a blog about just any other day? To think of what really could have been wrong/ right about this day I cannot fathom more than these basic facts. For one, today was a moonlit night...brilliantly moonlit night. Today was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Holi</span>...colourful as it was. Today was pretty much like any other day. Maybe.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the pursuit of desires we lose touch with someone who deserved it the most, someone who longed for it the most - one's own self. And the craving is not often felt but when it is, it is overpowering. Philosophical, as few would label this. But the truth still remains- and I personally can vouch for it- if even a narcissist like myself can feel a disconnect to his own self then maybe there are others too. Or so is the hope. And it is this that makes you seek contentment around you. And disappointment is but the natural course. </div><div><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PAvgSB_9sfY&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PAvgSB_9sfY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana;font-size:11px;"><strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAvgSB_9sfY&eurl">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAvgSB_9sfY&<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">eurl</span></a><br /></strong></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana;font-size:11px;"><strong>Lyrics to above video</strong>:<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Step one you say we need to talk<br />He walks you say sit down it's just a talk<br />He smiles politely back at you<br />You stare politely right on through<br />Some sort of window to your right<br />As he goes left and you stay right<br />Between the lines of fear and blame<br />You begin to wonder why you came<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br /><br />Let him know that you know best<br />Cause after all you do know best<br />Try to slip past his defense<br />Without granting innocence<br />Lay down a list of what is wrong<br />The things you've told him all along<br />And pray to God he hears you<br />And pray to God he hears you<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br /><br />As he begins to raise his voice<br />You lower yours and grant him one last choice<br />Drive until you lose the road<br />Or break with the ones you've followed<br />He will do one of two things<br />He will admit to everything<br />Or he'll say he's just not the same<br />And you'll begin to wonder why you came<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br />How to save a life<br />How to save a life<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br /><br />CHORUS:<br />Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend<br />Somewhere along in the bitterness<br />And I would have stayed up with you all night<br />Had I known how to save a life<br />How to save a life</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>rahulbajajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02602189590870632964noreply@blogger.com0