First, I haven't blogged for a long long time. I have looked for many reasons as to why this deep love for self-expression had got hibernated, could find just one. I was high on emotions, completely intoxicated for the last few months. I will look back at the “high” today.
In 41 years of my life, I always looked at today as being more sorted, smarter and thought through than yesterday. There are dots that you see and you pursue them as journey. I craved for an emotional bond , didn’t realize why. I loved ghazals and urdu Poetry and didn’t realize why. I had a huge affinity to our traditional clothing, Khussa and salwar kameez. I could never explain why... I never heard one English song till I was 20 and pretended I liked it to look “modern”. I could live on Vividh Bharti’s Vigyapan Prasaran Seva. I read spiritual books while others found solace in Cricket matches. I never developed a fancy for trendy watches, formal suits , cars or noisy parties. I thought I didn’t get the right environment to like this. Dots appeared Dots, in solitude and irrelevant.
I entered my 20s with dots which appeared as my “likes” though I would hide them from everyone, even myself. I would compare myself to my friends and think that my cultural clock is slow, very slow and is lagging so far behind. As life progressed, every social and cultural practice looked so fake. Parties which had a stench of ego rush and hormonal vomit, never made me comfortable. I was comfortable alone, shy and in one corner, not able to explain to myself why I was alone. My emotional promiscuity, however, didn’t stop, the constant overpowering desire to connect without the fear of being judged , without being “categorized” and mistrusted, would just not fade away. Every relationship made guilt and solitude even worse. While the emotional journey wasn’t going anywhere , the socio-economic journey was making up for it. Some possessions (houses, cars) and some indulgence (business class travel and fancy hotel) did provide symptomatic relief , real pain continued to simmer and get worse.
A few months back, someone marched straight in and wiped the fog off the mirror of my personality, with bare warm hands . She connected all the dots so well. The me in the mirror was no one I looked like. An old man with grey hair, french beard, crisp urdu, linen Kurta and khussa. I had seen him somewhere. his occasional poetry matched his emotional quotient. His eyes reflected the die hard romantic in him and his expressions spoke of his spiritual depth. He had seen obsolete worldly ways of looking happy. He was happy, in solitude and in love . Strange that they coexist, but they do. Love is never overbearing, it actually frees you up. Love is never suffocating, it makes solitude blissful ......
The warm hands were of a soul who was very similar yet very distinct. She was Jaana Jee ...One of my first recorded couplets... ना देख इतने रश्क से ये खँडहर जाने जाना, इमारत होती तो नज़र लग भी सकती थी .
Nida Fazli to compliment my thoughts ....
कहीं छत थी दीवार-ओ-दर थे कहीं, मिला मुझको घर का पता देर से
दिया तो बहुत ज़िन्दगी ने मुझे, मगर जो दिया वो दिया देर से
हुआ न कोई काम मामूल से, गुज़ारे शब-ओ-रोज़ कुछ इस तरह
कभी चाँद चमका ग़लत वक़्त पर, कभी घर में सूरज उगा देर से
कभी रुक गये राह में बेसबब, कभी वक़्त से पहले घिर आई शब
हुये बंद दरवाज़े खुल खुल के सब, जहाँ भी गया मैं गया देर से
ये सब इत्तिफ़ाक़ात का खेल है, यही है जुदाई यही मेल है
मैं मुड़ मुड़ के देखा किया दूर तक, बनी वो ख़ामोशी सदा देर से
सजा दिन भी रौशन हुई रात भी. भरे जाम लहराई बरसात भी
रहे साथ कुछ ऐसे हालात भी, जो होना था जल्दी हुआ देर से
भटकती रही यूँ ही हर बंदगी, मिली न कहीं से कोई रौशनी
छुपा था कहीं भीड़ में आदमी, हुआ मुझ में रौशन ख़ुदा देर से
दिया तो बहुत ज़िन्दगी ने मुझे, मगर जो दिया वो दिया देर से
हुआ न कोई काम मामूल से, गुज़ारे शब-ओ-रोज़ कुछ इस तरह
कभी चाँद चमका ग़लत वक़्त पर, कभी घर में सूरज उगा देर से
कभी रुक गये राह में बेसबब, कभी वक़्त से पहले घिर आई शब
हुये बंद दरवाज़े खुल खुल के सब, जहाँ भी गया मैं गया देर से
ये सब इत्तिफ़ाक़ात का खेल है, यही है जुदाई यही मेल है
मैं मुड़ मुड़ के देखा किया दूर तक, बनी वो ख़ामोशी सदा देर से
सजा दिन भी रौशन हुई रात भी. भरे जाम लहराई बरसात भी
रहे साथ कुछ ऐसे हालात भी, जो होना था जल्दी हुआ देर से
भटकती रही यूँ ही हर बंदगी, मिली न कहीं से कोई रौशनी
छुपा था कहीं भीड़ में आदमी, हुआ मुझ में रौशन ख़ुदा देर से
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