Dabi Urja

दबी ऊर्जा

बाल अवस्था में जब पेड़ से पत्ता गिरता

तो मन में एक ख्याल गुदगुदाता:

पेड़ पे पत्ता चढ़ा कैसे?

फिर जब छुपा भेद जाना

तो हैरानी तो हुई पर जिगन्यासा दब गयी

जवानी में लड़के घुरके देखते

सीटियां बजाते, चक्कर काटते:

नसों में खून उगलता

फिर जाना के इंडियामें यह

न बदलनेवाली रिवायत है;

ज्वालामुखी की आग दब गयी

पहले जब दिल टूटता था

तो ज़ोर से कांच के टूटने की आवाज़ आती:

टूटे टुकड़े समेटने में ज़माना निकल जाता

और आज जब दिल टूटता है तो

दबें पावों की आहट भी नहीं सुनाई देती;

मेरी अंदर की ज़िन्दगी दब गयी

आज जब पापा ने मम्मी को कसकर

थप्पड़ मारा तो वो रोने लगी:

मै अपनी लाचारी को कोस रही थी

जब मुझमे साहस  की एक लहर उठी

मैंने पापा का उठता हाथ रोक दिया;

बर्दाश्त करने की ख्वाहिश दब गयी

Salsa: a self discovery

Salsa: a self discovery

I was an introverted little girl,

loneliness my sole companion, 

an ugly duckling with a

passionless void at the centre

of its life who mustered its guts

and decided to learn the Salsa.

First step (Day 1)
Self-doubt nearly crippled my first day.
Sculpted bodies, intense beauties…all sashaying
to the SALSATION. I was anxious, scared;
I was horrified! This ugly duckling dancing
with handsome boys!

Five Gurus took the dance floor
and exhibited the silken, sexy salsa.
I watched their hips, faces and limbs...
their synchronization rocked. Intimidated
but excited I started to move.

Is it me? (Day 3)
I admired myself in blue jeans, pink top,
I soaked the starriness in yellow light
As I slowly drew eight using my hips!
Watching self in those walled mirrors,
I felt the gracefulness in my physique.

Boy holding waist! (Day 10)
My dance crumbled, footsteps fumbled.
Mind grumbled and feet stumbled,

 the first pairing I had with a boy.
But his assurance was comforting.

Frustration (Day 20)
gurus flirted with beauties
forgetting the responsibilities,
and I did feel a bit left out. Yet,
I persevered. I watched the way
instructors swayed.
Fun wasn't unavoidable.

Best! (Day 75)
Hips shook, 8 was precise,
Revolutions were perfect.
Mental balance balanced as
My body balance rocked back.
I salsaed at home,

discovered my feminism.
In no time, I was the best in class.
Confidence was sky high,
Conqueror was I…I was the best.
But this was just the level one!

Len (Day 120)
Len was my new handsome Guru
In level two…a supreme dancer.
A gem at heart...

BAILAMOS (Day 150)
When our eyes met this day,
all my shyness vanished.
We spun, twisted, swayed.
The feel of his hot, hard breaths
was exhilarating zenith.
Our dance was silken smooth.
Salsa can easily trigger love…I felt
And I was in love… in love with Len!
Could he be meant for me?

Level 2 ended (Day 180)
That day, the music was loud,
space cramped by girls in short skirts,
and Len was dancing...

 with a girl who wasn't me.
Was I shattered? Was I hurt?
Surprisingly not…
Salsa can easily trigger love… I felt
Enlightenment! 

I was in love…in love with salsa

Practice became passion,
Passion became addiction.

All the next levels would clear with ease.

Today (Day 450)
Two levels separate me,
and salsa's highest peak.
Today my Guru said,
“I reminded him of his Guru”
A remarkable remark.

So proud was I of the ugly duckling 
who became a salsa dancing beauty


​

King

  

Chessmen work arduously
to protect the master

Though he is slow,
does the bare minimum
he is respected--
his authority is final

I wondered about this slack CEO

till it hit me:

if the king is checkmated,

everyone fails to fulfill their karma

Perhaps on a human chessboard,
heart is the king

Jivan na divso (Days of life)

Gujarati:

Pella mada par rethi madrasan dar saware
banave tamtamto sambhar ane navi rangodi.
Kyare laal galabi gusso to kyare laal bane prem
Kyare peedo bane asha to kyare bane urja
Safed marble par shobhe nirmal safed rang
Akash ni akanksha layne aaveche needo rang
Kyare mann udas thay to dekhayche kado rang!
Dhobi pagla pade, kachrawadane hoye ghai--
Chokraonu dhyan bhatke, kyare hawa hoi tej
saanjna to rangodi na rang bhusayaj jaye
Navi sawar thay gayi che,sambhar ni khushboo aavi?

English:
Every morning the south Indian lady living on first floor
makes simmering sambar and a new rangoli
Sometimes rosy red is anger and sometimes red becomes love
Sometimes yellow becomes hope and sometimes the energy
On white marble, soft white color suits
The wishes of the sky are bought by the blue
When heart is sad you can see black color!
Washer man makes footsteps and garbage collector is in a hurry
Kids do not pay attention and sometimes winds are fast
In the evening the colors of the rangoli get erased
The morning has come...did the aroma of sambar get to you?

Last Wish

A dove lies immobile
as a monk in meditation,
near the intersection
of a circle and 2-lane
road as a Honda Civic
zips away with speed
to match a cheetah's.

Catching her breath,
she struggles hard
to move a fraction
of a meter to reach
her moaning chicks
nested in a nearby pine.

Their frantic shrieks,
pleading with traffic
to clear a path
for their mother,
are intolerable.

Such is the agony that
I pray to the Almighty--
when nirvana summons me
all my kids are in town
and I pass away in my sleep.

Where is the Kid?

Where is the kid?

In my closet tucked deep inside me,

behind the jealousy due to neighbor's duplex,

beneath the anger of forever delayed Titwala local,

under the constant stress of the weight gain  and

besides the hatred towards the melancholic office-

There resided a kid.

In the race to earn the larger Bhakri,

I took the shortcuts, fed voracious egos,

sped past the ethics, overtook the family-

Somewhere the kid was lost.

After chasing the horizon for 3/4th of my life

I failed to buy a chawl, cribbed the hike of onion prices,

abused all the babus , fought with all my friends-

A quest began to find that kid.

The irony of the lost sleep in a pursuit of peace,

was that when I realized, to be a kid again, and

jumped in the puddle during the rain, my grandson asked-

“Aajoba, Are you a kid?”?

Incomplete Story

Justin was walking through the streets of Carter road when he received a call at 7 pm. Ritu was online. Four years ago Justin and Ritu were in a relationship. However, they broke up then to pursue supposedly more essential things in life. This was first time they were speaking after a gap of four years.

Justin and Ritu had separated amicably and there was no bad blood between them. Neither of them regretted their decision nor did anyone question each other. Justin’s heart started pounding at a very fast pace when he heard Ritu’s Hello. Such are the moments when an unusual feeling runs right through your body. In the three seconds after hearing Ritu’s voice, hundreds of thoughts raced through Justin’s mind.

Why would she call after four years? Is she doing alright? Is she in an emergency? From where did she get this new number of mine? I have tried so hard to forget her in these years. Is she also going through the same plight?  Has she married? If she has then does she have kids? I have surfed Facebook hundreds of time to get at least one glance of her photograph. I feel so miserable that I never clicked her photo. She always had this husky voice. Her face still flashes so vividly when I close my eyes to sleep. Does she still feel the same way, the way she felt for me?