Winter

Winter is like that.

Cold on the outside. So much, that it makes you feel warm inside. With the right company. Or, the right book. Or, with the right view.

It makes you look inside.

Like the way mild rain showers do. Not the torrential downpours. No, they scare you.

Mild rain showers make you wrap yourself up in an imaginary cocoon. And sing songs to yourself. As you walk back to the comfort of your home. Or, the place you can call home.

 

And as you shiver, you become one with the surroundings.

Winters can do that.

Like mild rains.

Not summers though.

 

The winter haze hides all noise. Sometimes, you rub your ears just to hear something. The sound of silence, maybe.

You only see what you need to see.

Or, what you expect to see.

When you stand by the windows in winter, you see beauty. Nature’s silence.

winter

Everything is an illusion. Or not. Like the heightened taste of pakodas. Or, the warm glow of companionship.

In winters, two often become one. As they seek each other.

And as two become one, the world seems like a less crowded place. Not divided by the difference between tea and coffee, white and black, paratha and dosa, capitalists and socialists. Like a nice coffee shop with a community table, which has space for just one more person. And another.

Like that community fire that makes you sit around and share stories. With space for just one more person. One more story.

 

Aren’t wintery places more sought after holiday destinations? Like Switzerland? Kashmir? As compared to the desert of Thar? Or Chennai?

 

Winters bring out the best in everything. Except, the colours of nature. Nature becomes silent. And broody. But broody is beautiful, no? Don’t you see a lot more of model photoshoot pictures where the subject is intense and broody. Not cheerful. Isn’t that the appeal of Ajay Devgan? Apparently?

 

 

I wonder why he wrote it that way. The Winter Is Coming. Ominous. Winter is nice. Winter is togetherness. Winter is the countless night spend together huddled in the same rajai. Winter is multiple rounds of chai-coffee together. Winter is those lazy five minutes of sleep. Winter is the new year picnic with family and friends. Winter is the steam coming off a hot roti. Winter is us.

 

 

 

 

hum jaane kya kya kar aaye

Another one from the offline archives that never made to the blog this year.

 

Hum jaane kya kya kar aaye
Ye muththi khaali kar aaye
Jor laga ke bheenchi par
Hun ret na kaabu kar paaye

Paani ki tarah sab pighal gaya
In aankhon se aansoo ban kar
Kuch sapne humne tod liye
Do aankhein khaali kar aaye

Ab haath khule par dua nahi
Ab zakhm khule hain, dawaa nahi
Apni zebein khali kar ke
Allah ka daaman bhar aaye

Kaatenge kaise baaki umar
Is baat pe charcha kya karna
Tasveer bitha ke is ghar mein
Hum tumko rukhsat kar aaye

Tum baith wahan khush khush hoge
Hum roz yahan kuch rote hain
Har roz koi kissa keh kar
Hum dil pe marham kar aaye

Moving on… From 2016

It’s been an year. More than that. I’ve not written anything here. This blogging part of my life has stayed dormant. I was busy. Not writing. I ended 2015 with this, and I had to eat my own words in 2016.

2016 was not good. In totality. The year you lose your father cannot give you a victory big enough to compensate for your loss.

I was busy with that phase of taking care of him. Trying to take care of him. Compromising on almost everything else. Even when I was doing other things.

Later, I was busy grieving. The grief still sneaks in from here and there. More so, on the days I sit down to write something. It’s almost like I need to apologize before the conversation can move forward. For everything I did not do enough of.

I haven’t written much about him. I don’t know what to write about him.

The middle class guy that I am, I spent a lifetime living his dreams. All except one. I don’t regret that.

I do regret not talking enough. I regret not doing enough. I regret not being there as often. I regret a lot of those things. Comes with the territory, I guess.

I would like to believe that I made him proud. I am certain some of my actions or decisions did not agree with him. He tried not to make me feel bad about them.

Everyone believes that I was his favorite. I hope I did enough to be his favorite. I hope it wasn’t just because I was the youngest. And the cutest. 🙂

I hope he knew that I loved him as much as he loved me. It’s difficult though.

I am grateful that his pain and suffering did not prolong. I am grateful that while his sickness lasted long, he did not have a difficult departure. I am grateful that I was there. I always feel that I would have not been able to come back to my life if I was not there. If I hadn’t seen him leave.

 

So, here’s to an attempt to fall forward in 2017. I hope that when this year is over, I am done with getting my life and living in order again, you can still proudly say –“my son!”.  To quote from what I wrote for Aaroh

मेरे लड़खड़ाते कदमो को थाम ले
वो ऊँगली हो तुम

तुम मेरा कल हो
तुम्हारा आज हूँ मैं
तुम्हारी अनकही कहानी का
अंदाज़ हूँ मैं

And in case you have internet where you are – here’s a pic for you.

dsc_0021

 

***

This is what I wrote on the night of May 6th. The night before he left.

तुम्हें लौट कर आज आन पड़ेगा।
अभी बात मेरी पूरी नहीं है।
अभी मैंने काफी कहा ही नहीं है।
अभी तुमने काफी सुना ही नहीं है।

अभी मेरे सपने अधूरे अधूरे।
अभी मेरी हर दास्तां है अधूरी।
अभी मैंने कितने फ़साने हैं लिखने।
अभी लफ्ज़ मैंने बुना ही नहीं है।

बस इक बार हंस के मुझे देख लो तुम
बस इक बार और सीना चौड़ा तो हो ले
बस इक बार और उस बिस्तर पे सो लूँ
बस इक बार तुमको पकड़ के मैं रो लूँ

फिर इक बार तुम मेरी बातें समझ लो
फिर इक बार फिर मुझपे गुस्सा तो कर लो
फिर इक बार एक चुटकुला तो सुना दो
अभी मैंने कुछ भी सुना ही नहीं है

अभी मैंने कुछ भी सुना ही नहीं है
अभी मैंने कुछ भी सुना ही नहीं है

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