अशक्त नाम

मैं मेरा नाम नहीं, मेरे नाम से मैं नहीं । ।

नाम मेरी भूमि का है, मिट्टी की खुश्बू का नहीं,

नाम मेरे गांव का है, संस्कृति का नहीं,

नाम मेरे परिवार का है, संस्कारों का नहीं,

नाम मेरे अपनों का है, संबंधों का नहीं,

नाम मेरे मज़हब का है, तालीम का नहीं,

नाम मेरे रिश्तों का है, मुहब्बत का नहीं,

नाम मेरे कर्म का है, ईमान का नहीं । ।

आसमान का नाम नहीं, उसकी उँचाई पर रोक नहीं,

ये हवा बेनाम है, उस पर कोई बंदिश नहीं । ।

धूप का नाम नहीं, सिर्फ़ सहलाती गर्मी है,

बारिश बेनाम है, उसका पानी खारा नहीं । ।

नाम की सरहदों पर सियासी जंग है,

नाम के दायरे में अपनों से फ़ासले हैं ।

नाम की ज़ंजीर में ज़िंदगी मुनासिब है,

नाम की ज़कड में जीना मुमकिन नहीं । ।

रंग,  मेंहदी का हो या जुम्मे की चादर का,

चाँद, चौथ का हो या रमज़ान की दुआ का ।

मेहज़ नाम का कोई वजूद नहीं, 

नाम का खुद कोई अस्तित्व नहीं । ।

मेरे भजन में भक्ति का नाम है,

मेरी अर्ज़ियों में फरियाद का नाम है ।

कुदरत की रूह हो, या अपने रिश्ते,

इनको नाम के बाज़ार में ना बेच । ।

क्यों अपने खुदा के करिश्मे को नाम देता है?

तू खुद कौन है, जो खुदा को नाम देता है?

कुछ नासमझ है ऐ इंसान तेरी सोंच,

बेनाम को बदनाम कहता है । ।

मैं मेरा नाम नहीं, मेरे नाम से मैं नहीं । ।

द्वंद सा हो जाता है

हर सुबह दिल सुकून की ख्वाइश करता है,

और दिमाग़ शौहरत की चाह में अंगड़ाई लेता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल सूरज की किरणों में गर्माता है,

और दिमाग़ गुज़रते वक़्त से बेचैन हो उठता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल उस फकीर की मदद को आतुर होता है,

और दिमाग़ उसके हालात की उधेड़ बुन में लग जाता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल पुराने लम्हे याद करता है,

और दिमाग़ दर्द की आहें भरता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल उनको माफ़ करने की सिफारिश करता है,

और दिमाग़ सज़ा के मायने समझता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल ज़रूरत के लिए रुपये कमाता है,

और दिल दौलत को ही फौलाद मानता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल आज में जीने को बेताब है,

और दिमाग़ को बस कल ही दिखता है,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल उम्र के फसाने को शिखर,

और दिमाग़ इसको ज़िंदगी की ढलान,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दरिया के साहिल पर दिन ढला या चाँदनी आई,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

दिल की धड़कन सुने या दिमाग़ की सलाह,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है । ।

साँसें रुकती नही बस ज़िंदगी थम जाती है,
बिन धड़कन सासें भी झुलस जाती हैं,

कुछ द्वंद सा हो जाता है ।

It’s all in the mind...

The phrase “It’s all in the mind” has been beaten to death and yet it resurrects at various coordinates in our journey, (I choose to address life as journey; else I would be adding boundaries to my thought).

It happened more than 2 decades back, on a summer afternoon. My mother and grandmother were busy pickling mangoes, while my brother and me were trying to complete our holiday homework; (whoever coined the term and gave birth to the concept sure didn’t check the meaning of ‘holiday’. It’s even got Thesaurus rolling in his grave). We were solving basic arithmetic problems.

Kanha wrote 5+6 = 10 in his full squared maths notebook. I peeped from the side, and I knew 5+6/10, without even counting the pebbles that were Kanha’s abacus. Years went by, and today this incident revisits me, in a very different way.

As I sit and revisit the sequence, an obvious revelation divulges. I was able to comprehend that my brother had made a mistake, more intuitively than transactional, because I had been there, done that several times. Drawing a not so palpable analogy, on more occasions than one, my consciousness tells me whether a decision is right, the situation is favourable or formidable times impede. This time too, the feeling is more instinctive than transactional. Our consciousness has been there, done that, for several lives. Now, what is the vehicle for my consciousness to travel on? Soul?

The journey of my soul is as old as itself. It has transcended ages, situations, and moments with the same coordinates in the same or another universe. It is bruised with time, eroded with repetition, assaulted during the journey, only to come out bettered and progressed.

A skilled sculptor hath no fingerprints

How true is that, when I contemplate on the journey my soul? It has lost its true attributes, travel records and diary of life…even the count of lives it has died. However, what the soul carried with each journey was its consciousness, awareness of the experiences, and realization of its impermanence. Only when we are fully aware of our ephemerality that we are prepared to move on to our next journey.

Soul, the solitary creation of God is programmed to strive for enhanced journey experiences. As a result, the soul is more evolved each time it embarks on a fresh journey. It ensures, no journey is wasted, making the same mistakes. However, new experiences fail thy consciousness, and that’s how we mortals make wrong, often self-sabotaging decisions, exactly how my baby brother was unable to see 5+6/10.

While some call it intuition or sixth sense or gut feeling, it’s quintessentially our consciousness. We may want to interpret it as our memory from another journey or choose to leave it un-fathomed, but we can never succeed in ignoring it.

Ironically, while each experience is momentary, journey is fleeting, and cosmos is transitory, the endurance of our consciousness is universal. Each time your consciousness begins to talk, you can overlook it, but not un-hear it. It’s all in us; the noise in your silence, resonance in your stillness, light in the darkness.

नीयत

एक वक़्त की बात है

फरिश्ता ज़मीन पर आया था

कुदरत का ये हसीं हुस्न देख

उसका भी मन इतराया था

बोला उसने कुदरत के ख़ुदा को

इन दिलकश नज़ारों का मैं माही हूँ

इनका अकेलापन इन्हें ख़ाक ना कर दे

इस जन्नत की कद्र को मैं राज़ी हूँ

ख़ुदा ने उसको आगाह करा

ये कायनात बेकद्री करती है

जैसे वक़्त गुज़रता है

फ़िज़ा सराब पेश होती है

ऊंचाई बुलाती है, तो गहराई गिराती है,
खुशबू लुभाती है, तो फीकी भी पड़ जाती है

आफताब के बाद अँधियारा आता है

तो चाँद बेतरतीब छुप जाता है

बारिश से सैलाब आते हैं

दरिया भी राह बदल जाते हैं

मायूस हो जाओगे तुम ऐ फ़रिश्ते

इस दुनिया में ऐसे रंग बदलते हैं

जिस दुनिया की ख्वाइश तू करता है

वो सिर्फ तेरे तस्सवुर का एक हिस्सा है

जिस पाक मुस्तक़बिल की चाह बसाता है

उसकी तक़दीर बस लफ़्ज़ों का पिंजरा है

मैंने चाँद को चेहरा दिया

तो इंसान ने उसे दाग समझा

दिल को मुहब्बत का जज़्बा दिया

उसने एक लापरवाह खिलवाड़ समझा

दिमाग से साज़िश

और भूक का सौदा करता है

इसका ऐतबार ना कर

ये इंसान ख़ुद से भी बेवफाई करता है

ना जाने कैसे इसको तराशा मैंने

कौन सी चूक हो गयी कारीगर से

हैरान हूँ उसकी तमीज से

ख़ुदा से भी खुदगर्ज़ी करी जिसने

बंधन के रिश्ते

किसी ने हम से कहा, रिश्तों के बंधन में सुकून है, पर बंधन में ही तो हर ख्वाब दम तोड़ देता है | रिश्तों की पैमाइश उनकी पकड़ से करते हैं, और दरमियान की मुहब्बत की आज़माइश करते हैं ||

जिस बंधन को फतह करने की गुफ्तगू करते हैं, उसको गिरोह में जकड़ने ना दो | हर पल को बुनते रहो सुकून से, रिश्तों को पकड़ मिलेगी बुनाई के झरोखों से ||

हमें इल्म भी नहीं होता कब रिश्ते दम तोड़ देते हैं, मतलब तो बस उनकी पेश से होता है | बयान करता बेजान बंधन है, बुझ गया है, इसलिए बोझ बन गया है ||

नासमझी के बंधन डोरियों से बाँधते हैं, खिंचाव के तनाव के मोहताज होते हैं |

रिश्ते:

खुदा की रहमत हैं, माँ की दुआ हैं, मासूम की ज़िद्द हैं, फ़िज़ा की नसीम हैं, रात की परछाई है, चाँद की नर्मी है ||

उड़ने दो आसमान की बदहवास ऊँचाई में, गिरने दो समुंदर की बेकाबू गहराई में | बहकने दो बारिश की मौज में, सिमटने दो वक़्त की तहों में ||

नाज़ुक है ये सफ़र ए रिश्तों का, जिसे बंधन के रिश्ते निभा ना पाएंगे | परवान चढते हैं रिश्तों के बंधन, बंधन नहीं कोई जिनमें ||

सहेज लो इनको मुहब्बत की गर्मी में, ठिठुर ना जाए किसी ओढनी की गाँठो में

Is the Era of Perfectionists Over?

The cornerstone of every computer, tab, smart device is binary language, essentially 0 or 1. As our lives maneuver towards virtual smartness, we spend significant proportion of our day with machines that have no shades of grey, it is either true or false. Admittedly, these machines are not making us any smarter or binary’ier in any way, if not more. Perfectionism was once touted as a quality humans would boast of; they were the pioneers of quality and raising the bar. It was these perfectionists that inspired parents to raise their children, students to strive harder, actors to give that one more shot, writers to review the draft yet again, leaders to walk that extra mile, and mankind to push the envelope further. They were always a minority, with a mind of their own, refusing to succumb to mediocrity. Due to their tail end location on the bell curve the noise of imperfection is fast drowning the culture of perfectionism across nations. I would blame it on Grey, the damned color that relentlessly ousts black o’ white (MJ we miss you!).

Perfectionists created machines that ensured books were symmetrical, rings perfectly round, cones tapered to accuracy and yes, your laptops typed in straight line. Imagine having titled tables, asymmetrical doors or slanting car roof. If you cringed at the very thought of these imperfections, I see no reason why we shouldn’t be irked by our own imperfections. Human community moved from quality to quantity with increasing consumerism and diminishing barriers to consumption. As consumption became uniform across social groups, quality began to be graded and degraded too. Obviously, quantity was at the bottom of the pyramid while quality was for few. It all boiled down to the famous Cost Benefit Analysis. History tells us that, Jules Dupuit, the famous French economist propounded the theory in relation with benefits to the community from public enterprises. As smart humans would have it, we extended it to private enterprises, nation building, cross border relationships, and now fed it to our protoplasm.

Perfectionism when confused with idealism, meets its current fate. A fool proof idea to rob a bank isn’t an ideal act. A perfect plan increase access to drug peddlers isn’t an ideal scenario. They are two entirely different organisms, with no common parentage.

Perfectionism does not strive for idealism. It struggles with identifying imperfections and eliminating them till it can identify no more. Some minds are born with it, some acquire it and some shun it, each for their own reasons. A progressive community always looks for room for improvement. If we begin to take pride in our imperfections, we are soon going to have algae plague our lives. In fact, it is much easier to work on the imperfection than identify it. Imagine a young boy aspiring to be a cricketer being told, it is okay to play without perfect techniques. You may have a better opponent, but clearly not imperfect strokes.

We are sinking in the couch of comfort, not willing to open our eyes to ourselves. What we ignore is that when our eyes are closed, all we see is darkness, very binary indeed. Employees complain about managers driven by perfectionism; only if you saw some glaring mistakes. Perfectionism is just improvisation, till you see no room for it. Yes, you will eventually hit the wall.

Time, effort, and opportunity are the three costs perfectionism incurs, clearly very expensive in the fast paced, digitally controlled multi-tasking age. No revolution would have seen the light of day, if we were a bunch of comfortable people roaming in animal skin eating roots and fruits, or their peers had stoned them virtually for making perfect machines.

It bothers me, that while perfect objects are matter of fact, the very idea of striving to go that extra mile disturbs our hormonal balance.

Any specific reasons why perfectionism as a trait is expected only from machines created by mankind; when humans have begun to resist the very idea of it. It is comprehensible that there are certain humans who do not wish to strive for; it is deplorable that we have begun to tell young minds, you weren’t born to be perfect! Mediocrity has hijacked us from all corners limiting us to color, religion, ideology etc. The fag ends of the normal curve are leaner with every decade and mankind obese with being steroids of false sense of gratification. If you thought, perfectionists are unhappy, ask them how well they sleep after they sign off.

We are stronger than we see, better than we think, capable than we show, and ignorant than we know.

Is the Era of Perfectionists Over?

The cornerstone of every computer, tab, smart device is binary language, essentially 0 or 1. As our lives maneuver towards virtual smartness, we spend significant proportion of our day with machines that have no shades of grey, it is either true or false. Admittedly, these machines are not making us any smarter or binary’ier in any way, if not more. Perfectionism was once touted as a quality humans would boast of; they were the pioneers of quality and raising the bar. It was these perfectionists that inspired parents to raise their children, students to strive harder, actors to give that one more shot, writers to review the draft yet again, leaders to walk that extra mile, and mankind to push the envelope further. They were always a minority, with a mind of their own, refusing to succumb to mediocrity. Due to their tail end location on the bell curve the noise of imperfection is fast drowning the culture of perfectionism across nations. I would blame it on Grey, the damned color that relentlessly ousts black o’ white (MJ we miss you!).

Perfectionists created machines that ensured books were symmetrical, rings perfectly round, cones tapered to accuracy and yes, your laptops typed in straight line. Imagine having titled tables, asymmetrical doors or slanting car roof. If you cringed at the very thought of these imperfections, I see no reason why we shouldn’t be irked by our own imperfections. Human community moved from quality to quantity with increasing consumerism and diminishing barriers to consumption. As consumption became uniform across social groups, quality began to be graded and degraded too. Obviously, quantity was at the bottom of the pyramid while quality was for few. It all boiled down to the famous Cost Benefit Analysis. History tells us that, Jules Dupuit, the famous French economist propounded the theory in relation with benefits to the community from public enterprises. As smart humans would have it, we extended it to private enterprises, nation building, cross border relationships, and now fed it to our protoplasm.

Perfectionism when confused with idealism, meets its current fate. A fool proof idea to rob a bank isn’t an ideal act. A perfect plan increase access to drug peddlers isn’t an ideal scenario. They are two entirely different organisms, with no common parentage.

Perfectionism does not strive for idealism. It struggles with identifying imperfections and eliminating them till it can identify no more. Some minds are born with it, some acquire it and some shun it, each for their own reasons. A progressive community always looks for room for improvement. If we begin to take pride in our imperfections, we are soon going to have algae plague our lives. In fact, it is much easier to work on the imperfection than identify it. Imagine a young boy aspiring to be a cricketer being told, it is okay to play without perfect techniques. You may have a better opponent, but clearly not imperfect strokes.

We are sinking in the couch of comfort, not willing to open our eyes to ourselves. What we ignore is that when our eyes are closed, all we see is darkness, very binary indeed. Employees complain about managers driven by perfectionism; only if you saw some glaring mistakes. Perfectionism is just improvisation, till you see no room for it. Yes, you will eventually hit the wall.

Time, effort, and opportunity are the three costs perfectionism incurs, clearly very expensive in the fast paced, digitally controlled multi-tasking age. No revolution would have seen the light of day, if we were a bunch of comfortable people roaming in animal skin eating roots and fruits, or their peers had stoned them virtually for making perfect machines.

It bothers me, that while perfect objects are matter of fact, the very idea of striving to go that extra mile disturbs our hormonal balance.

Any specific reasons why perfectionism as a trait is expected only from machines created by mankind; when humans have begun to resist the very idea of it. It is comprehensible that there are certain humans who do not wish to strive for; it is deplorable that we have begun to tell young minds, you weren’t born to be perfect! Mediocrity has hijacked us from all corners limiting us to color, religion, ideology etc. The fag ends of the normal curve are leaner with every decade and mankind obese with being steroids of false sense of gratification. If you thought, perfectionists are unhappy, ask them how well they sleep after they sign off.

We are stronger than we see, better than we think, capable than we show, and ignorant than we know.

All in the mind...Really?

The phrase “It’s all in the mind” has been beaten to death and yet it resurrects at various coordinates in our journey, (I choose to address life as journey; else I would be adding boundaries to my thought).

It happened more than 2 decades back, on a summer afternoon. My mother and grandmother were busy pickling mangoes, while my brother and me were trying to complete our holiday homework; (whoever coined the term and gave birth to the concept sure didn’t check the meaning of ‘holiday’. It’s even got Thesaurus rolling in his grave). We were solving basic arithmetic problems.

Kanha wrote 5+6 = 10 in his full squared maths notebook. I peeped from the side, and I knew 5+6/10, without even counting the pebbles that were Kanha’s abacus. Years went by, and today this incident revisits me, in a very different way.

As I sit and revisit the sequence, an obvious revelation divulges. I was able to comprehend that my brother had made a mistake, more intuitively than transactional, because I had been there, done that several times. Drawing a not so palpable analogy, on more occasions than one, my consciousness tells me whether a decision is right, the situation is favorable or formidable times impede. This time too, the feeling is more instinctive than transactional. Our consciousness has been there, done that, for several lives. Now, what is the vehicle for my consciousness to travel on? Soul?

The journey of my soul is as old as itself. It has transcended ages, situations, and moments with the same coordinates in the same or another universe. It is bruised with time, eroded with repetition, assaulted during the journey, only to come out bettered and progressed.

                                     A skilled sculptor hath no fingerprints

How true is that, when I contemplate on the journey my soul? It has lost its true attributes, travel records and diary of life…even the count of lives it has died. However, what the soul carried with each journey was its consciousness, awareness of the experiences, and realization of its impermanence. Only when we are fully aware of our ephemerality that we are prepared to move on to our next journey.

Soul, the solitary creation of God is programmed to strive for enhanced journey experiences. As a result, the soul is more evolved each time it embarks on a fresh journey. It ensures, no journey is wasted, making the same mistakes. However, new experiences fail thy consciousness, and that’s how we mortals make wrong, often self-sabotaging decisions, exactly how my baby brother was unable to see 5+6!=10.

While some call it intuition or sixth sense or gut feeling, it’s quintessentially our consciousness. We may want to interpret it as our memory from another journey or choose to leave it unfathomed, but we can never succeed in ignoring it.

Ironically, while each experience is momentary, journey is fleeting, and cosmos is transitory, the endurance of our consciousness is universal. Each time your consciousness begins to talk, you can overlook it, but not un-hear it. It’s all in us; the noise in your silence, resonance in your stillness, light in the darkness.