क्या ख़्वाबों में भी तूने ये सोचा है क़ाफ़िर,
क्यों आतिशे क़ौमे हिजाज़ का निशाना बना तू ?
छिन गया तख़्त तिरा तुझसे ज़ेरे खंजर,
क्यों जहां में मज़लूमियत का फ़साना बना तू ?
जुर्म तिरा भी है, तेरे वायज़ का भी, उसकी दींदारी का भी
के जुर्रत को भूल चैनो अमन का दीवाना बना तू।

दिले सदचाक को कर पक्का, खसलते मोमीन को समझ,
शाने खुद्दारी कर पैदा, जुनूने मज़हब का पता कर,
क़ुव्वते तलवार को परख, क़ौमे हुनूद खोज ले,
अरे, परेशां है तो परेशानी का सबब पता कर।

Dog bite

Dear Misha

Four weeks ago you were in a turmoil. A she dog bit you. You had gone to one of the locality parks to play with your mother. There was a she dog in the park along with her pups. Without any provocation whatsoever, the dog suddenly attacked you and bit your left leg. You cried profusely (of course) and the wound was deep.
I was at work because this happened during the day. But your mother, though, extremely frightened and anguished due to this unfortunate incident, kept her cool and rushed you to the nearest doctor in no time.
You were given anti rabies injections (for 4 weeks - 1 per week) as a precaution. Though we checked, the dog did not have rabies.
Me and my mother thank God that the incident was brought under control.
And let me tell you that you are a very brave girl. After I met you late in the evening at the BLK Hospital (where you went with your mother for one special dose of injection that day) you were all smiling and chatting - just like you do :)

Now your wound has healed completely. You are a little afraid of dogs now but remember - you are brave.

Love
Papa

First School

My dear Misha

Today is your first day in your first school. I pray to Goddess Saraswati to shower you with her blessings. It is a proud moment for me and your mummy. The name of your first school is Madhuban. We were impressed by the principles they dictate and will hopefully practice.
Me and your mother didn't want you to attend a commercial flamboyant school with materialistic outlook. So there you are. Enjoy!

Love
Papa

कम्युनिज्म

हाल की घटनाओं में कम्युनिस्ट विचारधारा का भयानक चेहरा सभी के सामने आया है. आज जरुरत है कि इस राक्षस का समूल नाश किया जाए. इसके लिए जो भी आवश्यकता पड़ेगी वह किया जाएगा.

Is place of living important?

I do dream of different lives which I may want to lead at different points of time.

 Sometime I dream of living in Goa alongside a beach with a small design studio and a small coffee shop for example. The relaxed days and calm nights, shadows of palms and coconut trees, soothing sights and sounds of the sea. Good and healthy life. Reasonably good education for my children and satisfaction.

Sometimes I dream of a life in a far away land, perhaps in the developed part of Asia. A really urban but a peaceful systematic life.. a secure 9-5 job. Lots of time to spend with my family., exploring the city and native cultures, making new friends. Learning the music and new languages. No hassle of driving through traffic. A perfect pedestrian or public transit based life with social security.

I also, albeit not often, think of a life in a quiet village or a small city in Europe where I could be my own self, exploring dimensions of art and architecture surrounded by nature and silence. There is a lot which I can transpire with my own self. Perhaps write a book on a not so boring life I have had so far over a dose of nicotine and wine.

Then there are urges to spend the rest of my life in exploring my own country with my family. Meeting my own people. Understanding them and helping them to the best of my abilities. Laughing with a village stock some day and crying with a group of deceased poor another day. Rural India has a still lot to offer me to keep me alive and kicking.

But then very soon my dreams get shattered when I open my eyes and find myself in a catch 22 situation of realities and real responsibilities and reminders of what I must do and not what I want to do . Very essential to sustain myself and my family in a jungle surrounded by beasts of the highest order.

Then I pray to God and ask him the reason of sending me to this mrityuloka, a loka completely curtained by maya. A life where you have to do things because you are supposed to. Your innate instinct of survival. Your compulsion of struggle. A situation where you can see the truth but cant follow it. A world which you know is fake and materialistic but you cant escape it because the only way to escape it is through death which itself is the antithesis of the reason why God sent me here.

So, I carry on with the best of my abilities to win the game of mrityuloka. Lets see whether I win or lose. It doesn’t matter though but the excitement and anticipation gives me a reason to cheer. Seclusion and shying away from playing will only encourage me to escae Maya. Which I can but I wont. I love my wife and daughter.

 

It is perhaps my most difficult hour in life that I am writing this post. I lost Papa on 5th of March 2015 and since then I am feeling that I have lost a big chunk of myself.
The day I lost him made me feel like being abandoned by God himself. I felt that there is nothing for me in this world and no reason to live now.
I lost my history, my heritage my friend, philosopher, guide, guru and my witness.Papa was the only one who witnessed me for the greatest part of my life. For 33 years. He was constant for me since my birth. At the age of 21 when I lost mummy I still had him with me. He was my mother and father and everything since then. Atleast till I married.
My every professional and social effort was either inspired by him or was targeted to please him and have his appreciation. I feel now that there is nobody in this world who will appreciate my life as a whole, nobody who would accept me as I am in totality, nobody who would stand with me for everything big or small so selflessly.
I feel a part of me has died. A part of my mind, a part of my soul, a part of my conciousness. Everyday I pary to God that when I wake up next morning, I find this as a bad dream and not reality. Every day I miss Papa.His presence. His blessings.
When I analyze myself, I feel that I have not been a good enough son. I could not make him as confortable as I should have. I could not make him as cheerful as I should have.
Right now I see no way how I can console myself, how I can distract myself, how I can pay my penance, how I can forgive myself.
I see no way. I find temporary solace in rituals, I found some solace in the company of Ma Ganga who said to be that she will take care of Papa as she did of Mummy. But I could not embrace Ma Ganga properly yesterday among all those rituals. I find some solace in the company of my wife and daughter but it is beyond there capacity to fully understand how torn my heart is right now, which not even their fault.
My connection with Papa was unique for him and for me.
Forgive me God. Forgive me Papa. Give me peace. Heal my heart.
Om

The 1950s

It is interesting how am I drawn to the 1950s while dreaming of lights and shadows playing with the objects of architecture. How am I able to visualize the rays of sun playing hide and seek with the spaces. Why am I drawn to the places like karolbagh in my dreams? Is it the art deco or the modernist movement of New Delhi that draws my soul to itself? Or is it one of my previous lives?

The brave little boy

Dear Misha, today I want to tell you the story of a brave little boy. The boy used to live in a small village on a tiny island in the Mediterranean. His father was a poor man. He did not have a lot of money although he belonged to a royal family.  the boys name was napoleon bonaparte.
Though he was a royal he never felt ashamed  playing with the children  of the farmers.  he had often heard his mother saying that all men are equal. What napoleon could not understand why were some children called royal but others were not. So one day he asked his mother, ' mother am i a royal? And his mother replied napoleon no you are not a royal you are a boy. You are a human being this is the truth. Those who say that you are a royal as lying. God never meant some of us to be royals. God always meant us to be human beings.
And so Napoleon learned his first lesson that all men are equal.
Dear Misha I will continue this story after a while but I want you to learn the first lesson that Napoleon learned which is that all men are equal. Never trust anyone who tells you that some men are higher and some men are lower. This is a lie. Dear Misha I have met many people in my life many people from different countries many people from different backgrounds but I have always found all human beings share the same hopes and same aspirations. All human beings want peace and happiness in their lives. All human beings want to help others.
In your life you will find people who will try to scare you  of other human beings but you should always be careful not to believe these people because human beings are not to be feared, they are to be trusted. Of course there will be exceptions because exceptions are everywhere but we never learn our lessons on exceptions, we learn our lessons on generalizations.
I love you. papa.

Testing for voice post

I am trying to write using my voice isn't it great?  I never thought  that it could be possible.  i must thank google for this wonderful tool. It could be very useful. Perhaps this is my first post which is verbal in nature. I want to dedicate this post to Misha. My sweet little daughter. Thank you