My Favourite Student

Manu stared at his wife of three weeks, 'Are you crazy?' Sejal refused to be cowed down, 'Come in the afternoon and see for yourself.'

Thus started the best chapter of English literature course of the bright student, whom I was trying to help with. It appeared to be a very simple conversation to me. I was spell bound by his interpretation of the above lines and could not stop laughing out very very loud. Poor chap, very much aware of the social developments of the time, he interpreted it much deeper than the best teacher of literature.

'Manu' was pronounced 'Mannu' as he believed this name was inspired by the daily heard nick-name of our Prime Minister. 'Wife of three weeks' was interpreted to mean that this couple was married for just three weeks and now fighting for divorce. 'Stared' was believed to have had something to do with a staircase. Both of these interpretations seemed inspired by the much savoured Rahul-Dimpy saga. The poor chap, now very high on emotions, explained to me, 'As they were fighting for divorce, Mannu pushed his wife whom he had been married for only three weeks, under a staircase out of the house.'

He went on to explain, 'Mannu shouted, are you greedy?' Now I was truly puzzled about the greedy part. He explained, 'Look, kids are crazy for chocolate, that means kids are greedy for chocolates! And greedy fits just right into this context of their fight'. I could only utter, 'Wonderful, please carry on.'

He read aloud followed by his interpretation, 'Sejal refused to be co-wed down. Even though Mannu was accusing her, Sejal refused to be married to him any more, co-wed, you see. She even threatened him that the repercussions of his pushing her under the staircase would be reverberating all over by the afternoon for every one to hear and see!'

I could not help him more on this chapter. I felt ashamed of my hollow interpretations. This kid truly thought out of the box, I mean the idiot box! Teaching would be best the profession on earth if half of your class is half as hilarious as him. I am eagerly looking forward to his interpretations in the next class.

Hindsight...

There he was, dying. Doctors had lost all hope. They had given him a best case time frame of four months. I did not want to believe them. I hoped against hopes that a miracle would happen soon with the discovery of a life saving procedure. Daily, I browsed through a variety of resources to find any alternative cure for him. I wanted him to live, not because I needed his company, but because he loved life.

I started cooking routinely without making a mental note that it would be his turn to cook next. We started going out for movies more often and yet I compared him less often to the on-screen romanticists. I started buying small gifts for him without even thinking of a getting a return gift. I spent two whole days planning for his birthday. Strange enough, this time my plans were not affected by his efforts or lack of it for planning my last birthday.

I hated his buddies less and they started seeing him more often. Our home teemed with more fun and laughter now. I stopped asking our little son about whom he loved more. I started forgetting on what he had said on which occasion about whom in my family. May be I was not left with any time to do this amidst visits to hospitals and vacations. The purpose of my life seemed to find a cure for him. I even bargained in my prayers, that almighty, please let him live, even if that meant taking him away from me or our son not looking after me when I grew old and weak.

As I look back today, I find that those two months were the only time in the ten years spent together when I cared for him or anyone in the world for that matter ever, without any expectations. Strangely, that was the only time when my mind was at its peacest, even though dark shadows loomed viciously close-by. That was the only time when give and take had lesser meaning in my life. I was leading a life free of calculations. Those were the only two months when I was truly in love.

It hurts

Walking around with eyes open, I am constantly reminded of what Faiz Ahmed Faiz had once said,

'Aur bhi dukh hain zamaane mein mohabbat ke siva,

Raahaten aur bhi hain vasl ki raahat ke siva.'

It hurts
 
It hurts
To see a young Rickshaw-puller's palms smeared with blood,
As he holds the note with fingertips to keep it clean,
To spend it later at the local beer shop located at the corner of the road.

It hurts
When the fruit seller shoos off the old lady with choicest curses,
For begging for a single discarded rotten apple from his tray,
For her sick little grandson for the lack of money.

It hurts
To see the uncovered, month-old infants of the labourer women,
Peacefully resting on jagged sheets of cloth on the heaps of sand,
In the scorching summers and the freezing winters.

It hurts,
To get the broadest grin of gratefulness from the urchin with tangled hair,
On handing him a box of sweets filled with ants a week after Diwali,
Which he shares generously with his big famished family soon after.

It hurts,
When the ten year old skinny helper boy of the fat shopkeeper,
Carries the can filled with water weighing just a little less than him,
To my second floor flat and rushes back happily humming a tune.

It hurts...

Aj Aakhan Paul Octopus Noo

This is my humblest attempt at brazenly copying the great Amrita Pritam's cult poem 'Aj Aakhan Waris Shah Noo'. With all apologies to both the great poets, I proceed to ride on the Oracle Octopus' waves...

अज कहती हूँ Paul Octopus से,
अपने टैंक में से बोलो,
और भावी भारत की
हालत का राज़ खोलो |

इक FIFA की जंग के वस्ते,
तूने बता दी जीत और हार,
अज सैंकड़ों जंग से झूझते 
वासी, तुम्हे लगाते हैं गुहार...

ऐ सच्चे खिलाडियों के यार,
सुन लो हम लोगों की पुकार,
जंगल में लूटें माओ-वादी,
शहरों में मारें आतंक-वादी.

पश्चिम से पूरब, दाख्खिन से उत्तर, 
सीमा के अन्दर, सीमा से बाहर,
सब इंसानियत भूल गए हैं,
राजनीती की होड़ में जुड़ गए हैं |

भ्रष्ट नेता, भ्रष्ट कर्मचारी,
बढ़ रही हर ओर भूख और बीमारी,
जलते किसान, तड़पते भिखारी,
वादे आलीशान, इरादे दुराचारी |

अज सब मनु-राजू बन गए हैं,
वतन-अमन-ईमान के चोर,
सलाखों से बहार आने को,
जो रोज़ लगायें नए जोर |

अब कहती हूँ Paul Octopus से,
अपने टैंक में से बोलो,
और भावी भारत कि
हालत का राज़ खोलो |