Udhaar ki aazaadi

Thodi si aazaadi milegi kya?
Khud se, tum se, tilmilaate dil se

Aur internet ke bill se.

Ghisi hui chappal se,

Apne pimple se aur ladko ke dimple se.

Harry ki Sejal se, mantri ke table se

Aur wifi ke cable se.

Aazaadi teen rang ki hi kyu hai.

Laal kyu nahi? Laal par bawaal kyu nahi,

Besharam sa sawaal kyu nahi?

Source : Dna India

Aisi bhi ek aazaadi chahiye

Ki ghadi ke angle se darr na lage,

Andhere me vehshi ke par na lage 

Aur huqumat ke pairo me sar na lage.

Source : Outlook India

70 saal ki umar hai, umar ka asar hai

Ki ya toh rupaye ka keher hai

Ya naazuk umar me kabar hai.

Source: Firstpost

Aur aisi bhi aazaadi kyu na ho

Ki saawan kisan ki aafat na ho jaye,

Ek degree zindagi ki laagat na ho jaye,

Kisi ki bhukhmari kahi ki daawat na ho jaye.

Ab aazaadi mil hi jaaye,

Trolls se, toll se, tol mol se.

Jeete jaane ke jhol se.

Sudhaar se na toh udhaar se sahi

Thodi si aazaadi milegi kya?

Source : The Indian Express

Tonight,about light

About lies you told and heard
About right decisions and wrong times,

About outright NOs and painful YESs

About stolen pens and looted memories

About chits in the class and silence in the walks,

About newspapers and red inks.

Tonight, it’s about wars. And cries.

Source : MSNBC.com

About preaching mom not to talk like that,

About feeling guilty for talking like that,

About stained pants and washed agony,

About withered walls and bright pictures.

About compass boxes and kitchen sets

And monsters in clouds, and a white dress.

Tonight, it’s about yesterday. And beyond.

Source : Pinterest

About teary blurs and clear paths,

About stubborn keyboards and blocked contacts,

About rains and parched hearts

About drafts in the mail and updated Instagram.

And earrings, and short hair and long kurtis

About everything out of league.

Tonight, it’s about me. And stars.

Source of featured image : Pinterest

Madam Attitude

And why are you always so cynical and headstrong and snobbish about almost everything?”

Because I am a bigtime idealist. I am auto-tuned to ideas of perfection. By that I don’t mean I am prim and proper and excel at everything. What I do, however, is to ensure 100% efforts. Whether in a project or a friendship or any relation whether it is with your mother or father or even the guy sitting next to you. I am a person of words who’d take them as they are and hence loud tones and rude replies irk me to levels much much more than they do to other people. I have this seemingly perfect idea of conversations where we respect others’ words and we love like how love should be. Now people call me judgemental but here’s the thing. Every small gesture is part of the bigger picture for me. So at every sentence and every act, I am picturizing the rationale behind that.  And the deductions are mostly saddening”


Not the most positive or comprehensible thing to hear, but don’t you think this attitude would make you a rather unhappy person?

Oh of course. By all means, I am unhappy. And even there I try to find the larger picture. Like whether it is the color of my walls or arrangement of the furniture or the series I am watching or the people I’m avoiding or things I’m thinking that are making me unhappy. But then, I realize that I fight, argue at petty things and get irked by people only because I know the possibilities of better situations. So I kind of rebel for love. I create havoc, for peace. That’s weird. Even I don’t get it.”



Well,do you even have friends?”

Friends of all kinds. But if your context of asking this was based on the insane replies above, then I would say, I have ONE friend. Who is my world. Not because I share all this with him,but because I don’t feel any of this with him. To him, I am the little sister whom he keeps scolding for not taking enough care of herself only by looking at my skin. To me, he is the brother with whom, I know I have nothing to worry about. We rarely meet. But when we do, he ensures it’s a Thursday so he can force me into eating Chicken. And in that moment, I am the most pampered kid ever. I think of getting him gifts because he deserves everything in the world. But then, I have not found anything precious enough. For him,watching me eat to my heart’s content is enough. I am already feeling happy.”


“You know not many people can handle you,right?”

“I know. I don’t have many people. I manage being a wreck.”

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho

Mujhe yaad hai ki 

baarish ko mai apna kehti thi

aur tumhe ye naadaani lagti thi,

Par meri khaatir tum bhi boondo me

ek majboor sukoon dhundh lete the.

Aaj shaam bhi wahi hai, barasti hui, kaali si, majboor si.

Par ab bheegne ka mann nahi hai,

Aur is sabab ki wajah kehne ko na kaho

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

Shaam wala rang hai, 
Aasmaa malang hai,

wahi kitaab sang hai

jo barso se badrang hai.

Kitne panno me apni hi hasi hai

Saawan ki baate wahi par basi hai.

Abb ki khaamoshi todne ko na kaho

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

PC : Naushad Ahmed Khan

Chai ki pyaali hai

cheeni aaj sawaali hai

ki mujhse kyu roothi ho

jo bilkul nahi daali hai.

Abb mithaas ki bass yaade pasand hain.

Par cheeni ki ye baate pasand hain.

In baato me arth daalne ko na kaho,

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

Last week a friend asked me if I had written something new and I was a little perplexed because I had kind of disowned writing poems for reasons I fail to figure out. She made me promise that I would write one super soon and here it is. Only after I finished writing this , did I realize that this makes me feel good. Of course, on a rainy day ( a rainy week in fact), I am most earnest about promises. 

Happy rains,

Anaari.

How we messed up love!

There are three kinds of us. Ones,who post heavily romantic stuff, of love and its magic. Seconds,who post stuff about love being a jerk,moh-maaya. Thirds,who are sick of both. Or let me put it this way. Most of us, were Type 1, who became Type 2 and are progressively becoming Type 3. I am very confidently saying this due to sufficiently large sample size. 

From here

To here

We,the millenials, have lived through DDLJ, Salaam Namaste and now OK Jaanu. Our ideas of love have evolved faster than Darwin could ever imagine. Not just ideas,our belief in love has evolved. Vanished. 

To here

Careers. There are Type 1 who are engineers, doctors, lawyers and all the “respectable” professions one could be in. Type 2 who have dared to do unconventional stuff. And Type 3, who wanted to be Type 2, were scared so studied things to be Type 1 but couldn’t fit anywhere. We have grown in the age of extremely high demand of IT people to the rise of careers by making YouTube videos. We have seen the soaring numbers of Cyber Cafe and now revolutions happening by tapping fingers from the couch. 

We are messed up because we,in mere 20-25 years of our lifespan have seen rise and demise of phenomena. We grew in era of deep deep romance where eyes did the talking. We heard with awe Preity Zinta smirk at Hrithik Roshan and asking him to “Ghoomaao-firaao and sugar coat his proposal”.

Iss baat ko zara aur saja ke kehte



Entered a Deepika Padukone who very meticuously directed The Nawab to “Seedhe point pe aao na”

Senti ho mai jaan gayi ab action dikhaao na

And when we still faced defeat in the romantic sphere, these people came with their golden words of wisdom of never falling in love.

What we have ended up becoming? These people. Who fall in love. Who do not know how to deal with love. So we run away. We curse. And then repeat. In this movie ( Shuddh Desi Romance) the eternal lover boy of Bollywood how emphatically exclaimed  “Yaar tum log bhagte bahut ho”

This movie was epitome of our mess.

Now pardon me for being a big time Bollywood buff, but I have seen every reflection of these 22 years in these movies. Or the other way round. There are countless reasons or rather factors to account for the mess but I would rather talk about two.

  • Family structures- The way our families have progressed! For once I would not call most families orthodox. The way the families have accepted the fact that the youngsters have a love life, have breakups, have casual flings- this very open conversational stir has messed up things in the sense that we are no more scared of making mistakes. With transparency, we are most khula saands! 
  • Jaane tu ya jaane na. This Mom!

  • As cliche as it may sound but Internet– 10 msgs ( not messages) per day including the “Hey” text! Saving money for the SMS pack! And now unlimited texts/voice/video calls. Sure the communication has got revolutionized. But so has the respect and anticipation. There is no more excitement in new notifications. Approaching, befriending, intimidating, loving and then avoiding and evading people- it is all happening all the time on the keypads. We have got so much control over the apps that we are losing control. 
  • The player of our times!

Sadly enough, I do not intend to provide any remedies( Not that I have any). I guess we like mess. We like being called messy. We will evolve through this. In what direction, I know not. I just hope,wherever we are, we can still appreciate this.

The lyrics of this song send chills down the spine

 

"Kismat se tum humko mile ho
 Kaise chhorenge, yeh hath ham na chhorenge
 
 Tukde dil ke ham tum milke
 Phir se jodenge, yeh shisha phir se jodenge
 Phir se banatee takdiro ko, armaano ko janziron ko
Jaanam abb naa todenge"

(You may listen to this song from movie Pukar, here
Kismat Se Tum Hum Ko Mile (Pukar): http://youtu.be/Uy84AB-5k9k)

Why don't you share your opinions on the same? I'm sure you all have a lot to say.

Happy summer
Anaari


A semester @ SAU

So I write this as the anticipation of a week long trip is building up so bad inside me that I have long crossed the borders of sanity. In few hours I’ll be off for a wonderful( yeah I know that already) trip. It’s only writing that can contain my levels of excitement as I count the hours to go (Dear fog, please spare my flight). But I had to write this anyway. This just had to be written because I’d choose to fall back on this story for many many years to come. This thing called SAU that has happened to me is a milestone I’ll rejoice every now and then even when wrinkles take over my tiny face. 

The entrance to awesomeness

So while I was at it, giving entrances for admission to masters courses, I had no idea where would I end up. Top priorities somehow were getting sublimed but thank god for a zillion of plan Bs. So I had missed the deadline to fill the SAU form( because I didn’t have money and grace to borrow more) but destiny,my friend,is one hell of a business. The dates got extended and just then cash flew in. Even giving the entrance was not without its share of struggles. I had three submissions the week preceding the entrance and I somehow managed to look past few books of relevance. The results took forever to get announced. And then I was worried about how would I pay the fee but like I said,the destiny business,I got the merit scholarship and my admission was sorted. 

Source: dreamstime.com

I do not really know what I expected out of Biotechnology but it was not the most positive note that I started my masters life with. I was not looking forward to it and a day before the joining in,I was ranting to a friend about how I feel I was not ready for masters. 
But it began. It began and I was awed. Awed and miniaturized. That and awed. The very first day as the faculty members interacted with us, a sudden bubble of positivity bursted out. I immediately felt, there could not be anything more right than me being here at this juncture. The kind of aura each and every professor had was magical. Each class was a revelation. Each class brought a little jolt and made us think a little more . It left us with a thirst for a little more. And even after a hectic maddening semester having two set of indulgent exams, none of the 20 of us would disagree that each class still leaves us as motivated. The first spark of dreaming of becoming a scientist was born. 

My first presentation

The academics were just one side of the story. This was South Asian University. It has students from all the SAARC nations. Barring the initial few days of hesitation, when I now look at my batch( during the practicals,when they are a bit relaxed) I see the Afghanis and Nepalis and Sri Lankans and Pakistanis laughing away at some popular Indian joke. Knowing about cultures was always my indulgence in the background but during these few months I had some of the most enriching conversations on it. Our South Asian studies allowed us to know what being a South Asian means and we now look at borders in slightly better perspectives. We viewed South Asia through the lens of literature,sociology,cinema,politics,economics and law to name a few. 

Biotech squad,freshers party

Stories have dimensions alright. But stories are because of people. People. My favorite field of study. I met some of the weirdest, gentlest and coolest people here. And I found a friend whom I am going to keep for a little longer. Longer than his own wish because he’s meant to be here in my life. He’s my bro,my partner in crimes that I have committed long before we’ve known each other. Our frequencies have matched like crazy and I think that’s because we both like neurobiology. There’s no other way to explain it. Anuvrat,bro you are here to stay. Yeah? 

There are few more people I have  had the privilege to interact with and with there own USPs they hold pretty places in different corners of my heart. Sampreeti, Poornima, Pawandeep, Minhaz, Nidhi, Shilpa, Hasam, Kiruthika it’s been awesome to know you guys. I hope the coming semesters unfold us more.

And of course, Nisha  , she has become my forever. I can see her dancing at my wedding already.

I had my first nighout here. I had my first all-night study here. I’m having my first long trip here. I had my first poster presentation here. I had my first encounter with research papers here. I had my first roaming around at night here. I had my first public game of cricket here. There are few more first that I feel are best safe in wraps. 

First nightout

SAU, you’ve been glorious as of now. I know for sure that the coming three semesters are going to be exponentially better and warmer.
Loads of love beyond any boundary

Archita

मैं ही कहानी

मैं उस पार की कहानी हुं.

हर गलत राह मुड़ कर देखी है,

हर गलत चाह कर के देखी है,

फ़िर सही गलत की परिभाषा भी,

तोड़ मडोड कर देखी है.

हर सरहद कस्बे कूंचे में,

मैं छुपी हुई मनमानी हुं,

मैं उस पार की कहानी हुं.

Source:pinterest

बिखरे फैले काजल में 

सपनों का रंग मिलाया है.

और होठों पर कुछ उम्मीदों को

गुलाबी सा सजाया है.

झुम्कों में तेवर लटका के,

ओड़नी में नखरे सिलवा के,

हर सुर ताल पर थिरकी हुं,

हर सुर ताल से अंजानी हुं.

मैं उस पार की कहानी हुं.

Source: firstavenuestories

इक शर्त लगी है जी लेने की,

इक दांव पे सान्सें रखी हैं.

इक होश नहीं है सन्नाटो का,

इक शोर में बातें रखी हैं.

जो ना जिउं तो वही कथा हुं

हर बार जो आनी जानी हुं..

मैं उस पार की कहानी हुं.

Source: punjabitribune.com

 Story of a Nothing

When her friend called to ask her about her plans for the evening,she said,”I have to wait for the dark”. She loved the darkness of nights,the dark rooms during the day and the dark cloudy days. Perhaps because darkness means ambiguity and that is what she related to the most. 

With “Mera kuchh saaman” in background,she started to put her room in order,the books back in shelves,the rubber bands back in the drawer,the half read novel beneath the pillow and brushed away some memories. As she then sat down to gulp down water from the bottle,she smelt its rim. “Why does the water from your bottle smell fruity,cherry kind?” “No,nothing of that sort,let me see. Oh it’s my lip balm on the rim. Idiot”. Then on he always smelt the rim of her bottle before drinking water. Unconsciously she started doing the same. Few weeks later,she stopped putting on that lip balm though.

On one of their strolls while they were headed to say goodbye before he left for yet another phase, he bared his out to her. “I have lived alone way too much,and I don’t want it that way for long. I had shut myself up emotionally,because I was broken” . Yet,he said certain things she never understood. “How can I say everything,try to feel na”. What should I feel at least explain that?” . “Nothing”.

Weeks started to pass by and happy memories began to get etched in their hearts. Of roads taken together and stealthy calls and morning texts and baring souls little by little. The long conversations could be easily traced back before falling alseep.

Why did you not text me good morning? Is it nice,to break customs?”

“We make these customs na. This ain’t a religious practice. I woke up late”

” Break customs only when they stop serving purposes so that I get a hint of something wrong.”

“What purpose?”

“Nothing”.


 She loved ethnic clothes. She loved the jhumkis and bindis and all that jazz. On days that she wore bindi,he would gaze at her a little longer. “What? Why are you staring? Isn’t it in the middle”. “No.”  “Idiot,then fix it”. And he would fix it. At the end of the day when she would look at the mirror,she would find her bindi shifted to the left. “You mean person. It was in the middle. Why did you mess with it? “Nothing”.  And they would giggle past the dinner.

Soon as the distance started taking toll on the long morning texts and the pretty conversations about love and necessities, there were fewer words and longer silences. Deeper pains. No more memories could find their way in the heart and no routes were getting them their strolls back.
I miss you. Why can’t we just admit what’s going in our minds? Why can’t we accept the truth that separation is not meant to be”

“But what is the problem. Everything is alright. I am still the same.”

“No. I don’t see the same person in you now”

“Because you are not the same”

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Itna mehnat kar ke Nothing kyu bolte ho”(Why do put so much effort to say nothing)
The sky grew dark.The song changed to “Lo aa gayi unki yaad”.She could now sit in the balcony and count the number of “Nothings” he gifted her.

Source- wallhd4

In prose,I let you die

In prose,I let you  die
I kill you for I die.
I take you to the cliff
and show you the greens
of dreamy dreams
Pinks of the walls
adorned with our pictures from the cafe.
Black and browns of the
most intense teas and coffees
Yellows of the library
we trusted upon.
And from that cliff
I push you down.
In prose,I kill.
In poetry,you exist.

In prose,I unnerve you.
I pinch to survive.
See through the murals
and the written art.
See through the plays
and the sitcoms.
See through my idea
of you and sunrise.
See through me.
In prose,I veil down.
In poetry,you is me.

In prose,you pour down.
I feel it as you evaporate
into my being.
As I watch you hold your steam
and bestow it upon the cold springs
of unknown romance,
I know you rise into
your abode of positivity.
For in prose,you choose.
In poetry,I divide.
  
          

image

Source- depositphotos.com

To the 15-year old girl

Hey girl,
You look amazing in that dress and them heels. When I was 15,I was wearing polo t-shirts,jeans and ponytail to everywhere. Not that I had many ‘everywhere’s to go. You are going to the clubs and parties. I received a couple of your invites on facebook. I can only imagine how much fun those would be. I just want to ask you,isn’t 15 a bit too early for the clubs? Why do want to see drunk people grooving away and practising infidelty because it’s “cool”,when you should watch Gumrah and know how they suffer? No,I am not judging you. No,I am not jealous since I never got to do what you do. I am actually concerned.

   

image

I have been teaching you and many 15 year olds like you for past 2 years to bear my expenses. I see what you do. You take the pain of getting waxed at this age. Doesn’t it hurt? Why do you ‘have to’ do it? Because everyone else is doing it? Because you are otherwise weird? Because you want to impress that guy? You’ve got lovely young skin. I saw you getting facial at a parlour. I see you straightening your hair for school. You,by all means have all the rights to look pretty. But guess what,at your age,you are beautiful and can do without adulteration. Your natural skin is what women in 20s and 30s are dying to have. What is this pressure you’ve taken upon yourself? You’ll have all the time to do it. Right now is the time to beautify your mind and deck up your future. Why don’t you watch career-oriented videos instead of makeup tutorials?
    

image

Source-parentsociety

I once asked you about your life goals. You said-“I wanna be an awesome mother to my kids”. I smiled. That’s a wonderful dream. Here at 20,I don’t get to hear that from girls my age or older. So kudos to you . But why don’t you have a goal to achieve for yourself before you become mommy? You and your “boyfriend” both take tuitions from me. You took Science because he did,so you can be together. But last year you said you want to study history,didn’t you? You stopped wearing black because he told you he didn’t like. Why don’t you become YOU before being his girlfriend? You put status  like “You are my life” ” You are my king”, “You are my reason of smiling” and then you put “I’m broken”, “I hate love”. The fact is you might just have no idea about life or love or both. You need oxygen survival. No guy. Never a guy.

      

image

No. Don't dream this. Dream to earn it.

I am not judging you again,but what’s the need to get physical at this age? Why don’t you maintain a healthy relationship and make a career and see if you still want to stay with that guy who told you bright colors don’t suit you? Why do you ‘have to’ send him nude pictures or get a tattoo done? Why shouldn’t you want to be a woman of substance whose qualities make her DESIRABLE? What’s this craze about being ‘ACCEPTABLE’?

     

image

You needn't feel this at 15

Your FB posts,pictures and whatsapp statuses irritate me first but then they worry me. I know I am sounding preachy but you are way too young for all that you do. I know you’ll learn the game fast and soon. But for that,you need to value yourself and create yourself before mingling in the ‘hep culture’. I am saying because nobody told me. I am there if you need a sister or an agony aunt.

Build your bed of sterner stuff,
Roses may follow.

Your Didi
Archita