The Urdu Fixation

“Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhane ke liye aa
aa phir se mujhe chhod ke jaane ke liye aa..
Pahale se maraasim na sahii phir bhi kabhi toh
rasm-o-rahe duniya ki nibhane ke liye aa..
Kis kis ko batayenge judaai ka sabab hum
tu mujhse khafaa hai toh zamaane ke liye aa..
kuch toh mere pindaar-e-mohabbat ka bharam rakh
tu bhi to kabhi mujh ko manaane ke liye aa..
ek umr se hoon lazzat-e-giriyaa se bhi maharuum
aye raahat-e-jaan mujh ko rulaane ke liye aa..
ab tak dil-e-khushfeham ko tujh se hain ummiden
ye aakharii shamma bhi bujhaane ke liye aa ....”

― Ahmad Faraz

The above shayari, when weaved into music and sung by Mehndi Hassan is my All time favorite ghazal. It is ethereal and vulnerable and transpires an air of mystique and brilliance about itself each time i hear it. There is something about Urdu poetry that inspires awe in me. I am not sure if its the linguistic flair or its persian influence that attracts me more to it, but its definitely worth an attempt.

Unlike legal jargon which drive me absolutely nuts
Shayari seems incomprehendible in ways i prefer,driving me nuts in ways i like

Yeh ishq naheen aasaan, bas itna samajh lijiye

Ik aag ka dariya hai, aur doob ke jaanaa hai

- Mirza Ghalib

Probably the first shayari i had ever heard.  More than the words itself,i remember the way the curly haired woman onscreen had recited it. Every word full of an era gone by and  pause of anguish at the end of each line. *sigh* 
I guess the ghazal's my dad would routinely hear at home got to me after all. 

Yeh ishq nahi aasaan

bas itna samajh lijiye

is aag me jalne ki

jald baazi na kijiye 

Is ishq mein nafrat bhi, is ishq mein junoon hain

yeh woh toofan hai jisme thandi sukhoon hai

is par zor nahin, yeh wo aatish hai

therav jo shor mein simti

har lahu mein khwaish hai

Yeh ishq nahi aasaan

bas itna samajh lijiye

jalti aag me jo kood chuke hain

paar karke hi dum lijiye

- Karishma Singh

On Being 23 and What is the What

Holy Shit, 23 And NO Balloons!
The possible indication that i might be getting mature and old makes me a little sad. But then i decided, "fuck ponderings"and bought a bunch for myself from the beiloon bhaiya on my way back home tonite :) And thats how the balance was restored to my world.

The thing is,I had been feeling pretty blah this week, trolling about my room draped in what my friend chose to call,"a curtain" around me. But behold, friends and Co. intervened ( to my initial reluctance) and rescued me from my self imposed slump :)
The glorious chocolate cake brought by my college peeps deserves special mention, after all, it was the first of the chocolate attack that followed  through he rest of the day, but who's complaining. Yummy food, ugly crying due to some brilliantly written stuff by Sho, and tons of chocolate in various forms later, I had a pretty darn awesome day. And i have to admit, i have the creme de a creme of friends. Much Love :)

The moment i returned home,i jumped into my bed with the book i have been cheating on everybody this whole week with. And an excerpt from it is what i wish to share today.

Its a part of a fable and goes like this :

Ebok and his wife had fallen on hard times. Drought set in after a season of poor-selling, meager crops. Their children, now school aged, had no shoes to carry them to school. They were beginning to go hungry. Every night Ebok prayed to God for a miracle. He prayed for God to send something to save his family.

One night – after many, many nights of praying – God appeared.

He appeared with a cow the size of three cows combined. A cow, Ebok knew, that would save his family and secure their future.

“I’ve heard your prayers, and have come with a gift,” God said to Ebok, “So this cow can be yours from this moment on, unless, of course, you’d rather have the What.”

Ebok replied like anyone would reply. “Well, what is the What?”

And God said what any God would say, “The What, my son, cannot be described.”

Ebok was distraught. Clearly God would not mention this What if it wasn’t worth wanting. He would not come and offer a gift that could not save him and his family, just as the cow would. But what was the What?

After a few moments God pressed Ebok to make his decision. Ebok looked to his hut where his wife and children slept, then back to the very fat cow standing before him. And in that moment he knew exactly which he had to choose.

The story is from the book I’m reading – Dave Eggers  novel titled, appropriately, What is the What. I can’t decide which Ebok chose. Did his faith in God lead him to take a leap and choose the What? Or did his love for his family, and immediate needs, make him sacrifice adventure for security?

And which would I choose? The unknown or the certain? The security or the thrill? The cow or the What?

Personally,I’d like to think I’d choose the What. I’d like to think I’ve chosen it already. But does choosing the cow mean I can be satisfied with basic needs? That I can sacrifice adventure for what’s truly important? That I can focus on care for my family?

Is the What for fools or for dreamers? I’m not sure it matters. I’m fairly certain I couldn’t live my life knowing I had a chance at having the What – and passed it up for a cow.

Which would you choose?

Clearly,until i am through with this book, my hibernation mode will continue.

Ending is Better Than Pending

Every story has a beginning, the middle and the end. Though nobody can deny the importance of beginnings, I have come to learn that it is easier to be a self starter  than a self-finisher. 

I say self-starting is easy probably because we have the least to loose when starting out on a journey. But what I write today isn’t about Beginnings.

Its about Ending’s.

Endings that involve difficult choices. 

I am not talking about calling off say, a troubled relationship where the choice was catalyzed by the foresight of a new beginning already in the making.

I am talking about putting an end to it even when you have a lot to loose.You end it because you should and not just because you could.

Ending's that quite frankly, suck balls yet are a necessary evil that we HAVE to commit to at times.

Be it a career path, a bad habit or relationships, as the chapter of it's story progresses, its share of troughs and crests over time adds to the value we place in it’s existence in our lives until it becomes an indispensable part of what we think we and/our lives cant do without.. Happens to ALL of us right? Yet, when the High : Low ratio gets fucked up with the lows dominating the former in blatant proportions, over and over and the end game alarm bells start ringing, not many of us accept it for what it is. The beginning of the end. And even if we do,don't we cite counter-arguments for each probable reason to DO something about it,until it seems harmless enough to be gladly dismissed to oblivion? Unfortunately, as life would have it, what we resist persists. And the growing negetivity it brings upon us is troubling in the least and consuming at its worst. So surely albeit, slowly it grows in magnanimity. When it becomes too much to be ignored, the two major forks that ideally paves way for us is :

 the route of compromise and desist and

 the route of cease and resist.

Alas, Familiarity breeds comfort and most of us would rather compromise on familiar grounds than break free into the darkness of the unknown. The ones who choose the latter are Self-finishers while the rest, in addition to being the majority here, are just that- the rest of the entire world population. This is where Self Finishers pull the trigger while the rest, if at all, resorts to “destiny”  to pull it for them.*eye roll*. Hasn't History/life or Harry Potter taught us enough that destiny is a bitch? A mean-spirited, evil bitch, best avoided at all costs! Anyway, that's just me but for the greater part, “Cutting an end loose” is a phrase easier spoken than done and putting an end to what you start isn't easy and by no means an obvious choice. 

Ironically, nearing the end is almost always more difficult than the end itself. That walk-up to the end is almost like trying to walk against gravitational forces slow and restrictive as opposed to that final hop-skip and jump step to the other side. And accepting and choosing to make that arduous walk is where most of us falter. 

From personal experience, I know that as the view of the end approaches, so does the dread of the unknown.  And the thought of holding on is so much more comforting, even if it hurts for a little longer and a little stronger. .That is why I respect self finishers. It takes tons of courage and balls to put an end to a story. Self finishers are few. Self authored endings by choice and not chance  exudes a powerful message to one-self and the world like no other. And I truly believe that it is the end that defines us and though we cant control when things hit rock bottom in our lives, we can choose to put an end to it. Please, muster up  the courage to end things that ought to be ended. The wise man contemplates, and does in good time what the fool does finally. Don't wait to reach your saturation point to take a call as the final resort.

So whatever it may be, Make a call. Take a stand. and stick to it.

Its just.a.fuckin.Cigarette.

That.Just.another.job.

He is Just.A.Boy. 

Life will give you tons of other better options. Don't wait for destiny to work its magic, he has millions of desperate and needy people he needs to address to and duh he aint even answerable to any of them. Make your own instead. Take a leap of faith and do/undo it. Brace the ending in order to embrace a new beginning. Sometimes the ending is just- moving on.

To All the Self Finisher’s of the World- My Respect and Salute

The Greatest Love Story Ever

"Ours is undoubtedly the greatest love story, Everrr and One day he will see it too!!! ", chirped away this friend I know and adore. Months have passed since she has been sharing regular,live updates of her unrequited love story with me and well as all unrequited love stories go, her's too have had its fair share of the awful and sad parts. What made it worse was that inspite of her regular attempts to pursue (and hence the persistent admonishing from me) she wasn't getting any closer,or better at getting her happy ending. 

Yeah, its sad, but if we push aside the emotions and its tragedic proportions for a moment, her story fits your normal; run of the mill-happening-everywhere-scenario right? Well. In my opinion, what sets her/them apart in this case; is that even at their lowest of low points right now, and, if i may add, a particularly ugly turn, she still choose to believe, that her's is the greatest love story ever. And gosh! the sad drawl and belief she says it with!!! On any other day, this comment would have been swiftly followed with a head slap, square in her face along with exasperated comments from me.But today, I was ppreoccupied making doodles in my notebook and staring vacantly at the doodly circles, lost in my own thing, when i heard her say this. 

After months of hearing her crib,contemplate, plan and pray for Mr.Punk (more like Mr.Junk if yu ask me :/), his time around, I chose to reserve my comments and playful attempts at cheering her up. Instead, I looked up. Stared at her for a second and then another.  And then yet another. Then gave up with an exasperated (and maybe a little exaggerated head shake) and smiled to myself muttering, 'Bloody lovers'. *facepalm*

Apart from my rhetoric reaction to her very usual action, it really got me to thinking.  Doesn't any and every good love story draw sighs and harrumphs over its twist and turns? The classic girl next door love story, the esoteric older woman-younger man or vice-versa. While there are quite a few that don’t comfortably fit the norms(same sex love stories), conversely, also prevalent, are the (preferred) ones with the happy endings, which if i may add, seem as slight as the dandelion—a sunny flowering, a puffball dispersed on a breeze. Ethereal and beautiful. :) Does these microscopic detailing's befit its fate on the love-greatness scale? Just because the guy in question (lets call him Mr. X) chose to stamp on and huff away from the affection that the girl-in-question had to offer, why should it make her love story any less amazing? Hence, even though she infuriates me sometimes with her seeming disegard for everything except Mr. X, Hats off to her dedication to him mahn.  And why not? Why does every love story, befitting to be re-told with fanfare and an air of victorious exuberance,only be the ones with happy endings? Why can't Glorious tales of royal and brutal rejection be a really great story worth being experienced?

Infact, whatever little/much we know about love is through watching the love/hate stories spanning our families as a kid..and the major lessons that started straight from middle school(and how :O ) till date. While in some Love stories, i see butterflies falling for homebodies, others involve dreamers head over heels with realists. Some have more at stake than a trip to the altar and don’t always end up happily. Some invoke the archetypes of myth and fairy tale, diving into the deeper imaginative realms of high Romanticism, a movement enamored of mystery and nature untamed. Others are live examples of the literary “romance,” scarcely true but then again happening all around nevertheless...one that combines adventure, idealism, and courtly love. Some people have one where their love takes them on a journey where desire is set against duty, and where love alters destiny (aww *pout*).

So then,i wonder, among the plethora of real life tales of love, both in the making and diminishing , that we see, hear, feel all around us,which is the greatest love story of all?  Which is the greatest love story ever told? Does one measure it by the amount of time it lasts or by the degree of intensity at its peak?  Do the ones that experienced bigger obstacles or overcame longer distances stake a greater precedence over more of happy memories and lesser climaxes? 

Maybe it isn't really about the relatable-ness other's can or cannot feel.

Maybe there are no 'original' nor 'trite' love story. 

Maybe it isn't about the circumstances at all.

Maybe it isn't about the comparable-ness either.Whether its between people or in some instances, one with God. 

Maybe i am using too many "maybe's ". Am i? Okay, don't answer that.

But what i am trying to say is, maybe there isn't a single greatest love story. 

There are NO rules which makes any love story good, bad, a success or a failure..in whatever form, shapes or sizes. 

Whichever circumstances. 

Maybe the greatest love story is simply the  one you own.

Needless to say, I smiled pensively and suggested a walk to the newly opened dessert place nearby. After all there's nothing like  Winter-Icecream-love to go with Musings.

The Traveller's Itch

By no means involving scratching of any sort, i am referring to the hypothetical condition that both affects and fuels a wanderer's soul. The traveller's itch (or as i like to call it, the Cant-Sit-Still Syndrome is an actual condition and can be incredibly devastating. And by that, i mean BOTH incredible AND devastating. Incredible memories and Devastating financial repurcussions. It has affected millions of people before and after me and as a classic example of " been there, suffered that " by your's truly, i guess the only probable cure, is to succumb to it and indulge in travel's of varying magnitude and duration. Infact it's the lifestyle of my Dreams.

Scratch it and it will scratch you right back

Places i want to go, apart from Vatican City , Istanbul and Antartica
Tokyo- CHECK!

My once-every-2-month traveller's itch struck again two days back. Of course, as expected, coming back from Hampi and Coimbatore had left me with a sense of restlessness. It's hard to go from everyday being an absolute adventure, full of new words and people, to something a little bit more routine. But it's all about perspective. Because a few weeks ago I found myself lost in my hometown, Kolkata and I could have very well been in a foreign city, I was so lost. This one particular street with tree's forming a canopy that i came across was so effin beautiful that I stopped and took a picture. Amazing ! Because this was the Kolkata I grew up in yet there's so much of it I have yet to see. My whole life, and yet, this little street I'd never registered in my memory. Or maybe, living away for the greater part of 4 years is what it took for me to notice these things. It's as if you have to leave in order to come home and see what's really there.

Over the last few year's, I'v wandered through culturally intense and rich places like Amritsar, Kathmandu, Pokhara, Benaras, greater parts of Japan and lately, Hampi. But the Insane desire to keep exploring never goes. Infact  i vow to live by the ocean someday.It's so easy to picture myself running on the beach with my cute dog and getting home just in time for breakfast after an early morning surf session.Yep, that sounds ideal!

 One of my very favorite songs -- Anchor by Mindy Gledhill -- has a line that says "I am nearly world renowned / As a restless soul who always skips town" and the first time I heard that line it struck a chord deep within my heart. It definitely spoke to me. As cheesy, and pun-ny as it sounds. I am a restless soul. That's the truth.

Discover yourself as you discover the world :)

However, this time around the itch resurfaced in the single most inconvenient time, where it became the background ( in cant-miss-it-RED-hues) of my current end semester examinations (drat!). I am NOT good at holding back hence, I find myself talking to my conscience every now and then, explaining why i cant take off right now. Why i cant just stand someplace wildly beautiful or charmingly desolate in awe, in wonder as i wander. 

I throw questions at myself and answer them right back, until i go tired and postpone the idea of just packing up and leaving. After all, I approach the end of my postgraduation and for all i know, academic life. I am (Read: Supposedly) in a season of transition, a time of learning, growing  and preparation. I'm not sure what for exactly (23 and clueless, yep that's me :D), but I just know that this is a vital phase that would decide my future. 

With such idealist line of thought on loop, I once again placate my heart to hold on and stay put..Stay put for a few more days before i can get back to photography, tasting varied cuisines, trekking, laying on beaches, eating chocolate and drinking copious amounts of red wine *sigh*. 

Till then, in-between, this is what keeps me going on

Google : For places i can fuck off to next

Coffee : While i Google and ogle.

Books. All kinds. All topics. All the books.

Family guy: happen's to be my TV fix as of late. On repeat. Every night as you fall asleep.

Gratitude: And expressing it.

Writing letters: The good, old-fashioned, stick a stamp on it, push it through the mail slot kind.

Music. As often as you can. As loud as plausible. Singing along. Old school ,Old Classics (Spare me the new crap that is being dished out lately.

Though the temporary distraction does the trick at times, i do know that the itch is here to stay. And honestly, I am quite thankful for it 

#continuousloop-ItchandScratch