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

When Papa went to France

Dear Misha
It feels really good to write my second post for you. You are very little right now, only 8 months and 12 days so you are not aware that I am not at home. I am in France Misha, in Paris and you are at home with your mummy and dadaji. I see you occassionally on whatsapp and skype and belive me, you are adorable. I miss you Misha as much as I miss your mummy.
France is a really nice country. I hope you'll visit France with your mummy and papa as soon as it is possible. There is everyting in Paris that you can imagine in a city. It has big avenues, wide roads, well maintained footpaths, buildings dating to the revolution, nice and friendly people, warm cafes and what all. Till now, I have not got outside Paris but I have felt that you can spend months just exploring Paris. It is so beautiful. On weekends, I usually go out to see the city. I have been to the basilicas like Sacre Soeur, Notre Dame and Saint Chapelle. I have been to the museums like that of modern art. I have walked along the river Siene. I have treaded the famous Champs Elysee. I have been on top of Arc de Triomphe from where you can see a magnificent view of the city. I have walked in the narrow lanes around Saint Paul.
Paris is so beautiful and lively and clean, Misha, that it attracts me to itself everyday.
And although I miss you and your mummy, the city brings back to life the long forgotten desire in me to admire the creation and to create for admiration. It is a very emotional feeling Misha, one that of art, of nature, of heart. It is an opportunity for me to soak in myself and reflect. It is important to be clear in your heart what you want in life. It is important to think about the direction where you want to move. They were some important projects that I did in past and they helped me gain confidence and understand the world as it works but that is over now. That road has ended for your Papa.
Now Papa is going to tread the path that he has always been desiring - the path of creation and the path of self sustainance. It could be a little difficult to start afresh but I think it will be okay in a few months. I pray that I do not go back again to another path, different from the one which is meant for me.
As your mother has realized, I have a number of traits within myself which are sometimes even contrary. But that is fine. Infact I am thankful to God for letting me experience and understanding so many things so far. And so many experiences on one hand while make me philosophical, they also help me to remain aloof from things which I do not really want. It is very interesting Misha, hope you'll experience many many wondeful things in your life too.
Paris brings to life that artist in me who was suffocated in last some years, perhaps partially if not completely. Art is an important Misha. It helps you to get beyond the cages of reason. As you will realize in due course, we are taught to be reasonable. To theorize, to argue and to prove with experiment and empirical evidence. But art is beyond reason. It is expression. Expression may or may not have reason. So an artist can either be reasonable or unreasonable. But being unreasonable doesnt make him less of an artist infact its quite contrary in many cases.
The problem is that people who judje with reason often ignore or even ridicule artsits. So an artist must be ready for this situation and think the people of reason as an ignorant bunch. It is okay. I sometimes look everyting unreasonable as a form of art, some sort of expression. You should observe people when they are not being watched, they do such interesting things. Imagine if a man who medidates gets the power of expression through not just words but, for example, through sculpting. How many marvellous sculputers can he create. It could be so good.
So an art needs a medium of expression. A harmless medium preferably. I was fortunate Misha to get introduced to the sphere of art in my architecture school although there wasnt much effort on part of our teachers to take it further. But it was my first lesson to appreciate art.
Paris has given me an immense opportunity to appreciate the works of so many highly regarded artists and so many other artists who chose to be anonymous. To appreciate art it is important to make your mind free from prejudice, established definistions of right and wrong. It is important to make your mind free from reason and past data entries. Then it will feel very satisfying and extremely touching the pieces of art. Sometimes I get very emotional looking at different pieces of art - paintings, sculptures, architecture, public spaces, furniture... everything. I feel I can experience the soul of the artist through his creation. And it reminds me that how important it is to put in your heart and sould in anyting you create. Otherwise why would you even create? If you create for others, then you are not an artist, you are an industrialist. There is nothing wrong being an industrialist though.
It could be cultural shock if you venture out in a foreign country and you could be tempted to judge people, places and events based to your own cultural background. But do not judge. Such a judgement is nothing but a blindfold on your own eyes. It also doesnt mean to change your own self under peer pressure. The key is to observe without letting it affect your core. Your core is your anchor in life. For me, my anchor is my family. So the priorities must be clear. I made a decision to choose my family before my person some years back. It has been a good decision so far Misha. Because for me, my family has a spiritual meaning to me, it has to do with my soul. Whereas my person is mortal.
Dont worry, I will try to tell you some good stories from Paris. Love you.
Papa
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नया सफर

जैसे इक घर से जुदा होना। कुछ ऐसा ही लगता है जब उस काम को छोड़ो जिसको पिछले छ बरस से करते आ रहे हो. और काम भी वो जो बेहद पसंद हो. तभी तो छ बरस गुज़ार दिए एक ही प्रोजेक्ट पर. रैपिड मेट्रो। याद है जब बेवकूफों की तरह कागज़ों पे यूँ ही नक़्शे बनाया करता था. क्या मालूम था था तब की ये मेट्रो बनेगी और ऐसी बनेगी जैसे सोची थी. मगर मेट्रो बनी. जैसा मैं ने सोचा था वैसी बनी. एक अजूबा जैसा लगता है. उन बदहवासी भरे दिनों और परेशानी भरी रातों का नतीजा अच्छा रहा. मन  को तसल्ली मिली।
अब इस कंपनी को इस प्रोजेक्ट को छोड़ रहा हूँ. दुःख भी होता है ख़ुशी भी. दुःख इसलिए की ज़िन्दगी के कई सबक इस से सीखे हैं. ख़ुशी इसलिए क्यों की अब उन सीखों का फायदा ले पाऊंगा।
नयी उम्मीद के साथ ये सफर खत्म हुआ और नया सफर शुरू होगा। घर पे ध्यान दे पाऊंगा ये उम्मीद भी है. आखिर घर है तो सब कुछ है वर्ना सब रेत. कहीं बारिश हुई नहीं की बह निकली।

ऑफिस ऑफिस

कभी कभी सोचता हूँ के जीवन में कई पड़ाव पार कर के आया हूँ. लगता है कि सब कुछ देख चुका हूँ, सुन चुका हूँ, कर चुका हूँ. क्या यही जीवन था या है? आगे क्या है? दौड़ में अव्वल आने कि इच्छा के अलावा? मानता हूँ कि सच्ची ख़ुशी परिवार के संग है, प्रकृति के संग है, देश-समाज  के संग है, कला के संग है, संगीत के संग है, परब्रह्म के संग है. सुकून तो इन्ही में है. तो क्यूँ इस दौड़ में हूँ मैं?
फिर याद आता है कि इन सबसे भी अधिक आवश्यक है ज़िंदा रहना। एक किस्म कि मजबूरी है ये. कहीं न कहीं कुछ ठीक नहीं है. ऑफिस में जी नहीं लगता अब. 

मिशा का आगमन मेरे जीवन में इस प्रकार है जैसे कि झरने के नीचे खड़े होकर आप आँखें बंद कर लें और यान्नी का संगीत आपके कानों में मिश्री घोल रहा हो. परब्रह्म तुझे आशीष देता है मेरी बेटी.

Welcome me back Atri..

Mixed Feelings

This is a time which like many previous occassions has brought me mixed feelings. Uncertainty is in the air regarding many issues. Apprehensions, expectations and disorientation is rampant. And many causes have added to the circumstances. On office front there is this appraisal time. War of thoughts and intentions is being covertly played. I could have side stepped itsaying that how does it matter? But in reality it matters because many things depend on it, many decisions atleast. A new chapter will be adding on to my life soon and the initial phase has its own petty challenges. Not that I am not keen to take on them or not geared but the fact is that I am overwhelmed with the expected changes. Some thing extremely new and interesting has come my way. But this month has started off on a depressing note... lets hope for the best!

Astrea - My Love

!

Can not believe that I'll be married soon..to an incredibly amazingly awesome girl!! My faith in my lord is reinforced. Everything seems so good, so peaceful so natural now! Will my dreams come true? Who knows about the rest? Most important of them all has already come true! :)
Can keep on writing pages and pages about how I feel but unless we fall in love with each other, i'll keep my fingers rather crossed. God bless u baby!

2011

2011, I think, will be one of the most important years of my life. Well, the first day itself brought the greatest of news, isnt it? May God be with us!

इस धूप में

कुछ बदला बदला सा क्यूँ है,
इस धूप में?
जाड़ों की है ये, वो भी जाड़ों की थी
उन्हीं पर्दों से छान रहा हूँ,
बार बार, हर बार जतन कर
फिर भी धांस अलग अलग सी,
आती है क्यूँ
इस धूप में?
शायद कुछ मिल जाता होगा रंज,
कुछ टूटे से सपने
चंद क़ातिलों
की यादों का अरक कहीं पड़ जाता होगा
तभी अजायब सूंघ रहा हूँ,
परेशान सा,
इस धूप में।
कोई कांच बना पाऊँ
जो उन यादों झलक दिखा दे
कुछ लम्हों को चुन लेने दे, कुछ
चेहरों की भीख दिला दे
नरमाई,
वो हंसी ठिठोली,
उम्मीदें, ममता की खुशबू
मिल जाएँ फिर पुरबाई तो,
अपनेपन का चरख चढ़ा कर
धौला हो लूँ
इस धूप में।

मज़े उसके, उड़ायेजा

ना आया कहीं से बुज़दिल, ना कहीं वो जाएगा
खाक़ से पैदा हुआ था, खाक़ में मिल जाएगा।
चंद लम्हे, हक़ से हैं जो, ज़िन्दगी के, जीते जा
तू नहीं, तो ये जहां क्या? ज़िन्दगी क्या कायनात?
जो नसीबे वक़्त मुमकिन, मज़े उसके, उड़ायेजा।
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Terrible Incident

Some days back, maybe last sunday, something happened that made me feel sick... made me even cry the following night. But I must record it for good. It was a regular day, I went to saket to meet surbhi generally. It was almost 10:30 when I started heading back home in metro. When i reached rajiv chowk, where i needed to change metro, i went up to stand in queue on the platform. There was a big guy in front of me who looked drunk and he was shamelessly staring at a young girl standing in front of him. Occasionally he would step forward and stare her facing her straight like an animal. Poor girl was undoubtedly shaken at his behavior and all she could do was call somebody on her phone and start a conversation. This whole thing really made me uncomfortable and I went around to find a cop or someone to lodge a protest and complain but i found nobody. I came back and decided to get involved. The guy was huge but drunk to my advantage so I came close to him and tried to push him without letting him know my intentions. This helped in getting his attention onto me rather than on the girl. He stared at me in anger and i stared back in his eyes. After a few moments he went back to his business (of staring the girl in the most vulgar way) so I pushed him again, much to his anger but before he could react, train arrived and he started planning how to get hold of the girh while she was getting in... as the door opened, i gently held the girls hand and pushed that bhenchod inside the train. After that the girl enetred the train, to my utter surprise and disgust, he started chaing her - poucing at her.... bastard! I kind of started acting as a wall between him and the girl. I kept jumping between them. And soon as the bastard started to talk to a co-traveller, i realized that he was a cop!! I knew i couldnt get him straight on then. So I kep pushing him away from the girl. I even tried a bit of chest fight! ;) although he was big but i realized we were equal in might because he was drunk as hell... well, after a few stations, he deboarded without being able to touch the girl, thankfully! The incident reminded me of a few things - 1. in delhi nobody gives a damn about anyone else 2. that delhi is the rape capital of the world is no lie 3. similar things must have happened to girls and women i love and care about. It made me utterly angry and filled me with disgust. Will ever be law and order restored back in this city? ever?

Pretence

I live in a funny part of the world... where people live dual lives... where pretence is part of life... where it is next to impossible to be what you really are. If you tell them that you dont really care if somebody has born or somebody has died in a distant relation, they'll be shocked. But I'm yet to figure out whether they're really shocked or just pretend to be shocked. I think they are genuinely shocked but not because you dont care about that distant relative but shocked because you spoke your mind in front of them. So, not speaking your mind is the norm here. Keep mum! Dont spell out any fucking word! Shhh! I am sure none of them gives a shit about all those distant relatives but they guard it as if its a classified state secret! Bizarre but true. It is hard to imagine, how do they maintain their peace of mind? their sanity? But as I have always believed, human mind is a wonderful piece of creation. It has endless dimensions and capabilities. Leading a dual life is just a child's play... If allowed, interested and nurtured, people can live numerous lives at the same time. Intent of their mind will make it possible... But why only this part of the world has so many creative minds? Question still remains...

इश्क़

क्यूँ

क्यूँ के जब इंसान बना, इंसान के साथ ही "क्यूँ" दुनिया में आ गया। तब से बात बात में "क्यूँ", हर काम में "क्यूँ", जीने में "क्यूँ", मरने में "क्यूँ"...बस "क्यूँ" ही "क्यूँ"। बहुत ही अजीब चीज़ है ये "क्यूँ"। कोई निठल्ला बैठा हो तो लोग पूछेंगे क्यूँ। उठ के चलने लगे तो भी पूछ बैठेंगे क्यूँ। लोगों की तो क्या ही बात कि जाए, खुद अपना ज़हन भी क्यूँ पूछे बिना कहाँ ठहरता है? मान भी लिया जाए कि कई बार क्यूँ का जवाब मौजूद होता है मगर ये कहाँ कि शराफ़त है कि हर उस चीज़ पर सवाल किया जाए जिसका जवाब मौजूद है। ये तो सरासर नाइंसाफी है...है कि नहीं? इक रोज़ इश्क़ हुआ तो ना जाने कितनी बार ज़हन ने दिल से पूछा - "क्यूँ?", मगर लाख चाह कर भी जवाब नसीब न हुआ। अब अगर ये जुर्म हो तो कोई पुलिस में इत्तेला कर दे, मगर जवाब की नामौजूदगी भी कभी जुर्म हुआ करती है क्या? इतना ही नहीं, इश्क़ का इज़हार हुआ तो जनाब ने पूछा क्यूँ? अब ज़माना कितना भी खराब क्यूँ न हो, इश्क़ का इज़हार आज भी मुशरिकी में नहीं गिना जाता। कोई मुशरिकी कर बैठे तो उस से पूछ भी लिया जाए के "क्यूँ"? मगर इज़हारएइश्क़ पर भी "क्यूँ"? बड़े ताज्जुब की बात है। यूँ तो हर आशिक़ यही दुआ करता है की उसके इज़हार पे इक़रार हो ही जाए मगर असल में ऐसी कुव्वत ख़ुशकिस्मती से ही नसीब हो पाती है। चलिए, हर इज़हार का नतीजा इक़रार न भी हो मगर ये भी कहाँ तक जायज़ है की हर इनकार पे "क्यूँ" का साया डाल दिया जाए? ये तो कोई बात न हुई। आखिर हमसफ़र सिर्फ एक मुसाफिर ही चुनले और दूसरे की राय न ले तो सफ़र ही शुरू कहाँ हो पायेगा? तो आखिर सफ़र शुरू हो ही नहीं पाया। रो धो के भी क्या हासिल होता, सोचा सफ़र बाद में कभी देखेंगे, फ़िलहाल अदनी तामीलों की ही अदायिगी कर लें - कौन जाने सफ़र कर भी पायेंगे इन्साफ की रात के पहले या नहीं? अब "क्यूँ" पूछने से सफ़र तो शुरू नहीं हो जाएगा ना ...