उड़ान

पीपल के एक पेड़ पे

थी नन्ही सी इक caterpillar

सिमटी सी उसकी ज़िन्दगी थी

अपने रेशमी कोष की गर्माहट में

फिर एक सुबह टूटा ककून

गिरा पर्दा पलकों से

चौंधया गयी आँखें उसकी

सूरज की तीखी धूप से

नज़रें घुमायीं तो दिखा एक जहां

अनजाना अज्ञात सा

घबराई caterpillar लगी कराहने

बचपन का वो गर्भ जब बिछड़ा

पाँव कुछ बड़े तो हुआ एहसास

एक नए हल्केपन का

पंखो का फड़फड़ाना लगा कुछ

उन पहले कदमो जैसा

लेने लगी है उड़ान वो अब

पर उसके सूरज से सुनहरे और रंगीन

बड़ चली है caterpillar आसमां की तरफ

छोटी पड़ गयी है अब यह ज़मीं ...

Delhi Diaries: Bus journeys

"Atleast take an autorickshaw", mom yells. A bit despairingly.

"I'll see", I murmur and lunge out of the house quickly. We both know I won't.

Now no longer possessing the stomach of steel, a reputation effectively washed away during the numerous trips to the WC on my first day here, it was my only chance to prove that after spending two years in Netherlands, I still had it in me to go through the grind and the rigour this city demands from its commoner. And as the bus (or TB as I like to call it) rolled to a halt at the bus stop, with its jam-packed interiors and audibly vibrating metal structure, TB just wreaked of redemption, albeit a slightly fetid kind.

Traveling by public transport is my way of reconnecting with Delhi, for whatever brief time I had here. A crowded bus/metro is one of the few places where total strangers forget about their personal space and commute together. We lament about politicians and Dravid's form, and share those interesting anecdotes about the time we ran into a celebrity (or the celebrity ran into you, as you mischievously emphasize). We allow others to stand in on our ongoing conversation and feet. We curse the same potholes, and welcome that same breeze of fresh air sneaking in through the window as the bus finds a clear stretch of road. For that duration of journey, its more than a group of individuals that travels. A communal mass with shared concerns and similar destinations.

And travel we did. From Mayur Vihar to CP to Dwarka to Gurgaon, and all the way back. Six hours of small talk, gossip and day-to-day insights into current events and life in general - my contribution to the white noise emanating from all the parallel conversations. And during these six hours, nobody assumed I lived abroad. For once the questions did not concern the Dutch weather and Amsterdam's night-life. And for that fraction of a day, I was a part of them, a face among kindred faces, moving under the same steel-and-glass canopy. 40 km/h max.

The Graduate

As a child, I remember watching the night sky for hours (rather hour, sigh...early bedtimes), and knew that one day I would become an astronaut and see the extremes of the universe unaided by a telescope. Every distant light twinkled with opportunity and every passing night brought me one-day closer to my dream.

As fate had it, this dream was soon dashed by the realities of growing up in a middle class family and less than 20/20 vision. And this September, I grew up to become an electrical engineer.

A proud engineer, I may add, as not only did he bust his chops over two continents, but also wrestle past a potential IAS officer, step over a could-be investment banker (a crappy one at that I think) and draw over the faint outlines of a writer/photographer and a social worker. Some of them false-starts, others just hobbies not taken seriously.

But is it true, that our lives have that one definitive calling, that one trail where every step feels right? The moments of clarity preached by the Karate kid's and Wake-up Sid's, which wear off by the time you reach the car and start complaining about the overpriced popcorn, are they really as true as they seem for those few minutes? Or are we just victims of oversimplification, and between the jack of all trades and master of one art, we might just have a few more options.

The next 4 years of PhD feel like a beginning of a journey of a different kind of "self-realization" like they say, as the electrical engineer tries to navigate past the self-doubts and arranged marriage, to test himself across a vast range of skill-sets and determine if an electrical engineer is all he is meant to be. He also plans to build some of those triceps they keep talking about. People will smirk, "another one of those lofty day-dreamers" they will say before going on to comment on his tiny eyes and how they are always closed in pictures. And he will stay firm. Because he knows no better.

But before that, its time to get wasted with drinking binges and affectionate females. After all, I just graduated.