नानी का संदूक

Image Source

खोला नानी का संदूक
रंग-बिरंगे ऊन के गोले की  तरह
सिमटी स्मृतियों के धागों ने मुझे बाँध लिया

निकली सफ़ेद रंग की क्रोशिए की शाल
और बिखर गयी यादों की गर्मी
और खेत में लहराते सरसों के फूलों सी
वो पीली दुशाला मन को गुदगुदा गयी
एक जानी-पहचानी महक थी संदूक की
वो गंध जो कीड़ों को संदूक में रहने नहीं देती
छोटी-छोटी सफ़ेद गोलियां
कोने में लुढ़की
कपड़ों में दुबकी
नानी के संदूक में

वो तस्वीरों का गुच्छा
जैसे फूलों का गुलदस्ता
जताता इस बात को कि
कभी मम्मी भी छोटी थीं
और नानी भी मम्मी थीं

सिल्क की साड़ियां
ज़री सजा लहँगा
अखबारों के बीच सहेजा-संभाला
शादी का जोड़ा
अपना ही संगीत बुनती
लंबी सफ़ेद सलाइयां
तांबे के शोर मचाते
कुछ नटखट बर्तन
चांदी की चम्मच
चांदी का झुनझुना
मात्रियोश्का डॉल का एक सेट
कोई टूटा खिलौना
और छठी के छोटे कपड़े
जब दिया जला के रात भर जागी होंगी नानी
एक मीठे कल की आस में

नानी का संदूक
यादों का पिटारा
खट्टे-मीठे पलों का बक्सा। ...

बीते कल का प्रतीक
प्राचीन और भारी
आज के हलके सूटकेस
का मज़बूत पूर्वज
स्टोररूम में सुसज्जित
या किसी की कॉफ़ी-टेबल का विकल्प
विमानों और समुद्री जहाज़ों में घूमा
स्मर्णिकाओं का धारक
कभी नोट्रेडम के देश में
कभी ब्रुसेल्स के ताँबे के बुत के रू-ब-रू
कभी पानी पर स्थित इटली के शहर वेनिस में
कभी रंगून के पवित्र पगोडा की भूमि पर
साम्यवादी नीतियों का साक्षी
कभी बिग बेन के घूंजते घंटों की आवाज़ सुनता जो शायद ये कहते हैं 
कि समय ठहरता नहीं तो तुम क्यों रुके हो - चलते जाओ। ... 
उसकी बात मान शायद 
इतिहास के पन्नों से टहलता टहलता
आज आ गया इन शब्दों को अर्थपूर्ण करने -
मेरी कविता का प्रसंग....
मेरी कल्पना का प्रतिनिधि
नानी का संदूक। .....


इस कविता में जिन जगहों का उल्लेख मैंने किया है, नानी ने वहां पर कुछ वर्ष व्यतीत किये थे - यूरोप के विभिन्न देशों में रहने की वजह मेरे नानाजी का काम था। वो  विदेशी विभाग में कार्यरत थे।


Linking to #WYHO - Write Your Heart Out The Artist's Way being hosted by Corinne at Everyday Gyaan. While it is not a free write exercise, I have tried to respond to the prompt - And we found _________ in a trunk in the attic…….

दो कमरों का घर

Image Source

सब कहते हैं बड़ा मकान खरीद लो 
कब तक किराया भरोगे 
दो कमरे छोटे नहीं लगते क्या तुम्हे ?
बच्चों को भी जगह चाहिए। ... 
नया घर होगा, नई खुशियां आएंगी 
मैं सोच में पड़ जाती हूँ 

ये दो कमरों का मकान 
घर ही तो है 
मानती हूँ दीवारें थोड़ी पुरानी हो गयी हैं 
पर वो जो लकीरें तुम्हे चुभ रही हैं 
वो मेरे बच्चों की पहली लिखाई हैं 
वो पहली तस्वीरें, जो किताब में होतीं तो मैं संभाल भी लेती 
हर जगह ले जाती 
पर दीवारें नहीं उठा सकती 
सोचती हूँ कुछ पल और जी लूँ उन्हें 
धुंधली हो जाएंगी अपने आप जब 
तब नया घर ले लूंगी। 

तुम कहते हो जगह चाहिए 
शायद देखा नहीं तुमने 
साथ बैठे कितने अभिन्न हो जाते हैं हम यहां 
साँसों का संगीत तक सुनाई देता है..... 
थोड़ा रुको 
जब कदम बढ़ेंगे महत्वाकांक्षाओं के साथ 
अपनी जगह भी खुद बना लेंगे 
तब तक जी लेने दो यह करीबी 
हर किसी को नसीब नहीं होती 

दो कमरों का मकान है 
यादों से सजा 
भावनाओं से भरा 
थोड़ा बिखरा सही 
थोड़ा मैला सही 
पर खुशियां भी सजी यहीं हैं 
आंसू भी थमे यहीं हैं 
तुम्हारे लिए ईंट और पत्थर की तंग दीवारें हैं 
पर मेरे लिए यही घर है 
मेरे दो कमरों का मकान। .... 

Linking to #MondayMusings at Everyday Gyaan

Let the Light Shine Bright This Year

Image Source

This New Year,  I came across two brilliant posts on word of the year as blogger - one by Shailaja and the other by Alana, I wondered whether I should have one too. And if yes, what would that word be? Three words kept holding my attention - Joy, Promise and Light. I could not in any way decide on one and let go of the other. Then, help arrived. In the form of a sign. A surprise so unexpected that it filled me with joy and showed me the promise of future. A promise that lay in the endeavors I would make if I remained true to myself. The surprise was a book I received through the Costco Connection Book Giveaway wherein Costco members can enter for a chance to win a signed copy of the book of the month. Since I had entered so many times with no luck, I had quite forgotten about it. But last night, when I checked the mail box, a white bubble wrapped package awaited picking. Still having no clue as to which book I had got, I opened the package and what did I see - Anthony Doerr's All The Light We Cannot See......

The book was on my wish-list for a long time but because it was in such high-demand, it was forever off the library's book-shelf. I could not believe my luck as I stared at the book, smiling like a child who had found a lost toy. 

And, if you have guessed it by now, the word of the year for me was decided. It would be - Light.

I remember a story I had read a long time ago. A master had to run some errands so he asked his disciple to take charge of his house. The only task the disciple had to do in his master's absence was to keep darkness out of the house. The master left. As the day descended, darkness started creeping in. The disciple was clueless. In his ignorance, he started beating around with a broom, thinking that would be enough to keep the darkness out. By the time the master returned, the disciple was exhausted and the house was dark. The master lit a candle which radiated the surroundings. 

What does the story tell us? 

The disciple focused on the darkness while the master brought out the light. 

Shifting the perspective towards one positive thing helped negate the gloominess of the house. 

We mortals have our flaws. We suffer from jealousy, anger, bias, ego and what not. All this blinds us. Our hearts close. Our eyes are shut. We forget what it means to be receptive, or loving or caring. We fail to see the light. It is not possible that we will not make any mistakes. We will. But when we fail to rectify the wrongs that we have done, we fail to see the light. We choose to be blinded. 

This year I will make every effort to see the light and be guided by it. 

This year I want to see What Else is Possible? A beautiful thought that stays with me from the past year. I borrow it from Andrea Davis Pinkney's The Red Pencil, a stirring portrayal of the genocide in Darfur, as seen from the eyes of a twelve-year old girl, Amira. Since I cannot do complete justice to the beauty of this thought, I am including the bit where it appears in the book:

Will you too, dear friends, see the light this year?

Will you too try to find out what else is possible? Will you too be guided by the light within and without to open the closed doors of your hearts?  

Linking it to Alphabet Salad Word of the Year Linkup - 2017 and #MondayMusings at Everyday Gyaan

Brick Wall that disappeared......

When I was little, I used to have a dream. It was recurrent. In the dream, I would be walking on an unknown path and in front of me stood a red brick wall. It was shaded with beautiful trees. It would beckon me with its mysterious beauty. I would try to reach it but before I could cover the entire distance between me and the wall, the dream would end, and I would wake up. I don't remember when I stopped having this dream. I did not discuss it with anyone since I believed that if I do that, I would stop having the dream. It was as if I wanted to face that wall in its alluring charm again and again and again. 

I never tried to read into the dream too. My dad had a book about dreams and their meanings which I would stealthily read every time I had some weird dream. But for this one, I did not want to. I wanted no interpretation of that path I was taking, of that wall that seemed to stand in between, and the color red. Now, after all these years, I could interpret it in many ways. Perhaps, my dreamy heart wanted to venture into the unknown horizon and live the adventures it had to offer. Perhaps, the wall stood for the many hurdles I would face in my journey which I would have to overcome. Perhaps the color red signified danger or rashness or aggression or passion. 

The path never appeared  uninviting. I never sensed an unease during or after the dream. I wanted that brick wall to appear right in front of my eyes so that I could cross it and see what lay on the other side.

I never met that brick wall. Or may be I didn't seek hard enough. In some shady nook, in some fanciful corner, it might still exist, waiting for me to reach it, touch it, cross it. 

तुम्हे शिकायत है कि राह में दीवारें बहुत हैं 

मुझे दुःख  इस बात कि चलने की कोशिश ही न की 

(You crib that there are many walls in the way

I regret that I never tried to walk....)

Image Source

Linking to #MondayMusings on Everyday Gyaan

Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale

Image Source

Last night, I finished reading Kristin Hannah's The Nightingale. After I put down the novel, I wondered what it was that glued me to war novels so much. What was it that made me want to read and re-read novels that talked of pain and misery and atrocity and injustice and what not? It wasn't that the pain I lived through with the characters made me happy. Then, what was it? In Hannah's novel, I seemed to find the answer - 

Love.
It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between. It didn't matter that she was broken and ugly and sick. He loved her and she loved him. All her life she had waited - longed for - people to love her, but now she saw what really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it. (The Nightingale, P-428)

The Nightingale is a novel not just about war. It is also about two sisters, Isabelle and Vianne, trying to find peace, trying to stitch back their lives together - lives that have been ripped apart by the monstrosity of hostility. It is a tale that affirms life. It is a saga that testifies to the values we stand by - values which exist on both sides. 

 Isabelle and Vianne are different personalities. The way they respond to situations reflect their demeanor. It is also a cause of misunderstanding between the two. Isabelle seems too volatile to Vianne, and Vianne is too lukewarm for Isabelle. It is the war that brings out a different side of each of them.  Dire times test them in excruciating ways. One longs for love, the other for peace. They both 'participate' in the war in different ways - one by helping save the Allied soldiers, and the other by rescuing the Jewish children. For them, war is a reality they live with every single day. As Vianne rightly says, "We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over." Women suffer the loss of friends, of family, of dignity and respect.  They 'wait' for all of this to get over so that they can start afresh. Vianne wonders whether she should forget everything, as if it was possible. But Antoine, her husband, reminds her that it is only in "remembering" that they will be able to renew life. 

Hannah explores the grounds of morality on which we judge people and ourselves through the characters of Herr Beck and Vianne. When the 'good' captain billets at Vianne's house, what begins is a shaky interrogation of what constitutes 'right' and 'wrong'. Everything is not black and white. Even the meting out of justice, as becomes evident with Beck's departure and Herr Richter's arrival. Who do we kill, and why? Who do we let live, and why? The book seeks to elicit a response from the reader.

In the end is the beginning. I will not reveal what,since I do not want to spoil it for those who have not read the book. But the beginning rests on the edifice of pain and loss and suffering. It seems to tell you to live, to love, to smile while you have time. It seems to tell you to remember too since forgetting is not the right way. In remembering, we realize what matters truly. The Nightingale will always sing a song where ever there is love. 

There are a few lines that have etched in my mind permanently. I do not know why. They keep coming back to me. They may not affect you the way they did me but still I will share them here as I end this post.

She was the first woman to queue up outside the shop this morning, and because of that, she got her full ration of butter. One hundred grams for the month. Two-thirds of a cup.
A treasure. (P- 105)


Linking to #MondayMusings on Everyday Gyaan