Day - 2 : " The Sarabjeet's Case "

Paksian has agreed on the consular access in this case. It seems a positive reply from Islamabad.

day-1 ::"India for humanitarian view of Sarabjeet case "

Few days back, the Pakistani supreme court has awarded the death sentence to Mr. Sarabjeet for his involvement in illegal activities. It is reported that he is an Indian. Across the border in India, his family believes in Mr. Sarabjeet's innocence and has been pleading to the Indian government to take necessary actions to save his life. Immense pressure from media and television channels pushed Indian government to talk with Pakistani officials. As a result, the external affairs minister Mr.Natwar Singh conveyed to the pakistani high commissioner Mr. Khan that this case should be treated as a 'humanitarian issue' by the pakistani government.
The External Affairs ministry spokesman said after the meeting of Mr. Natwar Singh and Mr.Khan," Minister said that this case is an humanitarian case and indian sentiments are involved for sparing Mr.Sarabjeet's life. Consular access being provided was taken up which hope that things would move in positive directions."
Soon after the meeting the high commissioner assured that he would convey this message to the higher officials in Islamabad.
In this case, government is hopeful that consular access would be granted and Pakistan would take lenient steps towards the victim.

सरहद (The Border)

This is the poem written by me (an unknown poet) in which I tried to depict the time of Independence behind the curtain of love. Few days back, I read 'Train to Pakistan' by Mr.Khushwant Singh and it made an everlasting impression on my mind. I decided to give my own words to represent the era of independence that was mentioned in 'Train to Pakistan'. Though my poem is mostly differ from the content of the book but the theme is same that lies on the partition in 1947. I added some of my own thoughts instead of copying from the book blindly.

There are mainly five parts of the poem depicting different situations. The first part envisages a village 'Mahua' and its life before partition. The second part is a romantic one which reflects the true love story of a Hindu boy with a Muslim girl. The third part is the heart of the poem which depicts the partition time and its consequences. While fourth part describes about the situation of 'Mahua' after partition and the last part shows the parting of Muslim girl to Pakistan with her father.

All the five parts are mutually inclusive to envisage the period of independence. I feel this is the best poem written by me so far. I spent more than three days to think again and again on this topic and finally I am happy that it has been completed.

१
एक गॉंव है महुआ बिल्‍कुल छोटा सा,
दीन दुनिया से बेखबर अपनी ही दुनिया में खोआ सा।

हवाऒं में जिसकी पीली मिट्‍टी की खुशबू आती है।
खेतों में उसके सरसों बोई जाती है।
पेडों पर कोयल कूका करती है।
कूँऐ में बच्‍चे कंकड फैका करते हैं।
मंदिर के घंटों से स्‍पंदन पैदा होता है, वहीं कुछ दूरी पर मज्ञ्‍जित में मौलाना नमाज़ अदा कर जाते हैं।
जैसे ही ये ध्‍वनियॉं कानों से टकराती हैं,
लोगों के लिये एक नई सुबह हो जाती है।
सब कायॊं में व्‍यस्‍त हो ज़ाते हैं,
महुआ की ज़िंदगी सांसे लेने लग जाती है।

लाहौर से दिल्‍ली जाने वाली सवारी गाडी दोपहर के खाने की याद दिलाती है।
मक्‍के की रोटी, सरसों का साग, उस पर गुड की छोटी सी ड़ेली, भरी दुपहरी में भी परम आनंद पहुंचाती है।
शाम को छुक - छुक करके चलने वाली मालगाडी अपने घर की याद दिलाती है।
गॉंव के बीचों बीच वटबृक्ष के नीचे पंचायत बैठा करती है।
हिन्‍दू-मुस्‍लिम सब मिल बैठ दिन भर की बातें बतियाते हैं।
उधर औरतें चूल्‍हा फूका करतीं हैं।
इधर बच्‍चे गुल्‍ली-डंडा खेला करते हैं।

यूंही देखते-देखते सूयॆ अस्‍त हो जाता है, रात दस्‍तक देने लग जाती है,
दिल्‍ली से लौटकर लाहौर जाने वाली गाडी सोने का संकेत दे जाती है।
बस फिर कुछ पल के लिये जिन्‍दगी थम सी जाती है,
पूरा महुआ चिर निद्रा में खो जाता है।
और एक नई सुबह आ जाती है........

२

महुआ की शुष्‍क हवाऔं में भी एक प्‍यार पनपता है।
किसान का बेटा रामलाल मौलाना की बेटी नूराह से रोज छुप-छुप कर मिलता है।
दोनों मीठी बातें करते हैं, जीने मरने की बातें करते हैं,
पल-पल हर-पल सपनों के शीशमहल में एक जिन्‍दगी जिया करते हैं,
पर जब भी रामलाल शादी की बातें किया करता है, नूराह की ऑंखों में ऑंसू आ जाते हैं,
वो सिसक-सिसक कर रोती और हर बार की तरह बस यही वो कहती।
तुम हिन्‍दू मैं मुस्‍लिम यही सबसे बडा दुभॊग्‍य है।
इस जात पात के चक्‍कर में जकडा अपना प्‍यार है।
शायद रिश्‍तों में बंधना अल्‍लाह का फरमान नहीं।
इसलिये इस जन्‍म में अपना निकाह मुम्‍किन नहीं...मुम्‍किन नहीं।
जैसे ही ये शब्‍द रामलाल के कानों में पडते हैं उसका बायीं ऑंख का ऑंसू झट से पलकों पर आ जाता है।
अपने सूखे अधरों से वो बस नूराह-नूराह कह पाता है। नूराह-नूराह कह पाता है।

यही उन दोनों की पे॒म कहानी है,
दो पल मिलते हैं, साथ-साथ चलते हैं, सपनों के शीशमहल बनते बिगडते हैं।
ऎसे ही हर दिन निकल जाता है और एक नई सुबह आ जाती है......

३

उधर हालात कुछ और ही थे।
हो गये इस देश के दो टुकडे थे।
मोहब्‍बत के दुश्‍मनों ने लकीर खींचकर सरहद बना दी।
उस सरहद की मॉंग खूनी रंग से सजा दी।
मैं हिन्‍दू तू मुस्‍लिम ...तू हिन्‍दू मैं मुस्‍लिम...
लोगों की सांसो का सौदा करती इस सरहद की सच्‍चाई थी।
पल-पल घुटती दम तोडती लोगों की अछ्‍छाई थी।

अब तो सफेद दीवारों पर खूनी शाम ढला करती थी।
घर के ऑंगन में हर रोज़ एक चिता जला करती थी।
खुद की परछाइयों ने भी अपना दामन छोड दिया,
गलियों में बस रूहें चला करती है।
गॉंव कस्‍बों में जहॉं जिंदगी बसा करती थी,
कब्रो ने भी सांसे भरना सीख लिया।
हवाऒं में जहॉं पीली मिट्‍टी की खुशबू आती थी,
इन हवाऒं तक ने अपना मुख मोड लिया।

लाहौर और दिल्‍ली वाली गाडी अब लाशें लेकर आती थी।
कौन हिन्‍दू कौन मुस्‍लिम ये लाशें बोला करती थी।
अब हर रात कब्रों में ढला करती थी।
हर सुबह लाशें ऒढा करती थी.....

४

महुआ के चॉंद में भी ग्रहण लग गया।
सरसों का रंग पीले से सुखॅ लाल हो गया।
गॉंव के बीचो-बीच वटवृक्ष के नीचे अब लाशें बैठा करती थी।
मंदिर में घंटे बजते थे पर मज्‍जिद सूनी रहती थी।
हर सहर एक खौफ ऒढे रहती थी, हर रात खूनी ऑंसू पिया करती थी।

वहीं खिडकी में नूराह नम ऑंखों से खुले आकाश को देखा करती थी।
अपनी मोहब्‍बत को बादलों में घिरते देख सिसक-सिसक कर रोया करती थी।
तारे गिना करती थी, उन तारों से कहा करती थी।
" कल मुझे सरहद पार जाना है अपने अब्‍बू के साथ।
तुम मुझे वहॉं जरुर मिल जाना , तुममें मैं अपनी मोहब्‍बत ढूंढ लूंगी।
तुम्‍हारे भरोसे बची कुची जिंदगी जी लूंगी....जिंदगी जी लूंगी।"

५

दिल्‍ली से लाहौर वाली गाडी आज कुछ देर से आती है।
नूराह अपने अब्‍बू के संग उस गाडी में चढ जाती है।
गाडी चलने लग जाती है, उसकी सांसें थम सी जाती है।
टूटती बिखरती सी वो दरबाजे पर खडी हो जाती है।
तभी कुछ दूर से उसे रामलाल दिखाई देता है।
उसकी बोझिल सांसें चलने लग जाती है।
पर गाडी की रफ्‍तार और तेज हो जाती है।
नूराह धबरा सी जाती है।
दौडता-भागता सा रामलाल उसके पास आ जाता है।
अपनी कपकपाती उंगलियों से उसके हाथों को छूकर यही बस कहता है,
" तुम अपना ख्‍याल रखना।
तुम सही कहती थी.....
इस जन्‍म में अपना निकाह मुम्‍किन नहीं।
इस जन्‍म में न सही अगले जन्‍म में मेरी ही बनकर रहना। मेरी ही बनकर रहना। "

वो कुछ न कह पाती है, जिन्‍दा लाश बनकर रह जाती है।
धुंधली आंखो से अपनी मोहब्‍बत को ओझल होते देखती है।
गाडी और तेज हो जाती है।
वो सरहद पार कर जाती है।
वो सरहद पार कर जाती है।

" इस सरहद ने इंसानों को तोड दिया।
मोहब्‍बत करने वालों को तडपता छोड दिया।
इसकी मांग खूनी रंग से सजी है,
इसलिये हर घर में एक चिता जली है। एक चिता जली है।"


-----------समाप्‍त------------

मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

अधेरों की महफिल में, एक लम्‍बी कतार में,
खडा हूं अकेला हाथ में दिया लेकर।
लौ बुझ रही है पवन चल रही है,
हाथों की आ॓ट ने संभाल रखा है लौ को।
पर क्‍या अगर लौ बुझ जाये, पर क्‍या अगर अंधेरा हो जाये।
एक लौ ऑर भी है जो कभी नहीं बुझती।
मेरे अंदर की लौ जो मुझसे हमेशा यही कहती रहती है।
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।


जीवन की इन विषम परिस्‍थतियों में,
कुछ नया करने की चाह में,
मुझे आंधियों से भी टकराना होगा, तूफानों से भी लडना होगा।
शायद बहुत मुिश्‍कल है पर नामुिम्‍कन नहीं।
क्‍योंकि.......
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

आज मेरी लेखनी नहीं थमेगी,
कागजों से इसकी स्‍याही नहीं मिटेगी।
अब भीड से आगे चलना है,
शायद इसी भीड का लीडर बनना है।
क्‍योंकि.....
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।


समय के बदलाव ने कमजोर बना दिया है।
रिश्‍तों की बनावट ने खोखला कर दिया है।
खोज रहा हूं खुद को खुद में, शायद आइना भी टूट चुका है.....पर
जो सपना मैंने देखा है, वो मेरे साथ है।
खुद ही जोडूंगा, इस टूटे हुये आइने को।
क्‍योंकि.....
मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं। मैं कमजोर नहीं हूं।

Realization...

There are twelve guys in my wing whom I have been interacting since couple of years. It’s just a matter of fact that some are very close to me while others are very far. In these years a kind of impression has been built in my mind about all our wing mates but today my notion has changed for Vishal. I had a kind of notion that he would be an academic loving guy and would never think about the relations and various aspects of life so I never interacted with him that way. Somehow I had a little talk with him today in the evening and my way of thinking has been changed. He discussed his feelings about a girl and showed some poems written by him. A beautiful poem that he wrote for the girl dropped an everlasting impression on me. He kept his feelings hidden fathoms deep into his poem.

I feel we all have something in our lives which lead us to think deep down. Something which we never want to let out. Today I realized a new thing about Vishal, don’t know how much will I be able to find out in upcoming days.

तुम

I wrote this peom for one of my good friends whom I met in IOCL. You can easily portray of her through my poem.

विचारो की पूणॆता लिये,
मुख पर आभा समेटे,
तितली सी चंचल तुम,
फूलो सी कोमल तुम,
खुद हर पल जो मुस्‌कुराती हो,
हमको भी हँसना सिखाती हो।

तुम युही हर पल हसते रहना, जिन्‍दगी जीते रहना।
कभी इस मुस्‍कुराहठ को अपने से अलग मत करना।

मै ठहरा कवि तुमसे ये वरदान चाहता हू,
अपनी कविता के लिये ये मुस्‍कुराहठ मॉगता हू।

काश ये मुस्‍कुराहठ मुझे मिल जाऎ,
मेरी कविता भी शाश्‍वत जीवित हो जाऎ।

Born Into The Brothel

A marvelous documentary by Ross Kauffman and Zana Briski is the winner of the 77th annual Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. It is a portrait of children of Red light district of Calcutta where their mothers work as prostitute. Zana, a photographer from New York spends her time with these children by providing them cameras to capture the hues of this world through their own eyes.
There is a group of few children of age less than fifteen. Zana talks to them and makes a great fun with photography. As she spends more and more time with these children, she feels herself very close to them. She decides to do something and starts working on their schooling. Somehow she gets an initial success in convincing parents but the main problem arises in finding a good school. She talks few of them in the city but due to the background of children, they all simply refuse to take them. Finally she talks with social organizations and foundations. With her strenuous efforts, few of those children get into the schools.
The main theme revolves around the children and their lives in brothel. Many of them have the ambitions to study but due to filthy environment and poor financial conditions, all their dreams have been shattering. They have accepted the cruel reality of life. Their worlds have been shrunk around the brothel itself. Zana shows them a ray of hope with a camera. That camera changes many things in their lives. They see a complete new world with the help of this device. These are the pictures taken by them which reflect their ideas and farsightedness.
I liked this documentary, not because of its overall rating but the softness that was untouched so far. There were many incidents when tears rolled down my cheeks. I have not been able to resist my self to think again and again since then.
There will be many such children who will not be able to live a good life. Is it their destiny that they were born into such places while I born into a well civilized, educated family? I have been getting a good education, a respectable social life. What are their faults???
Only their fates led them to hell while mine to a so called ‘heaven’. Why ???????

Khamosh Pani (Silent Water)

I had always been in search of this movie since a long time and thank God! Finally I could find it.
Basically this is a documentary based on Islamic fundamentalistic movement in Pakistan at 1979. The story revolves around a Muslim woman ‘Ayesha’ and her son ‘Saleem’. Ayesha is a middle aged woman, her life centers across her son who is in love with a school girl. As the story progresses, Saleem involves in an Islamic movement. Ayesha is saddened to see her son change radically. Sikh pilgrims come to that place for the worship. Later, a pilgrim looks for his sister Veero who was abducted in 1947. This awakens heart rendering memories of ‘Ayesha’ who remembers the incident in which she (Veero) had to marry with a Muslim to survive.
This story is the mirror of Indo-Pak partition era. Though story revolves around a woman but also provides lot of information.
I had been writing a poem on Indo-Pak border so this documentary helped me a lot in thinking deeply.

For more information about the documentary please click on the link below.
Khamosh Pani(Silent Water)

Changes !!

"Change is the law of nature"
I compare the very first day at IIT and today itself, I realize the changes that occurred in past three years. These changes are transient or for a prolonged period of time are difficult to say. If I push back the memories i.e. three years before when I was in first year, I recall some incidents which give the blurred portraits of mine at that time.

Let’s start with the academics part. I never ever cared about it. I had a notion in my mind that after clearing JEE it was no need to study again so I never gave a damn shit. Always bunked classes and did crap things. The result was, I landed up with 7.28 C.G.P.A (on the scale of 10) while most of my batch mates performed very well.:(

On the account of my worst C.G.P.A, I enjoyed a lot. I was a lively person who always wanted to make every moment precious and memorable. So my ‘self ego’ never came into existence through out the year. But then things changed a lot. I came to new hostel, met different people and learned new things. In the mean time my thinking had been developed a lot. I thought on various topics like philosophy of life, relationship, friendship and so on. I developed a kind of hobby of reading and am very happy that it still persists. All these things helped me to improve myself or I should say to uplift my confidence. Then ‘self ego’ came into existence. Though I enjoyed every moments since then but the way had been changed completely. Now the pleasure shifted in reading books, writing poems and speaking on various issues in public. I can say my inner knowledge has been lit up but have been feeling a complete void something middle of my heart. There are many things which I have been missing since then. I cann’t dance so passionately, not able to talk to my friends in the similar way as I used to do earlier. They might have complaint about it but what could I do. Now things have been changed a lot. This ‘self ego’ taught me to fight for myself or for my existence among my peers.

I know I am not happier but am very satisfied. I have my own way to do things, my own life style and a vision to see this word in a new look. I need these changes to be sustained for a long time to fight against my incompetencies.

Library

I went to the college library after so many days and I was amazed with its new looking. There were new desks and chairs all around. It was very pleased to see students in numbers readind books and discussing something all toghether. Even the computer were installed new so the processing had become very fast. A metal detector will be installed in few days at the door.
I remeber my first year days when I used to go in Library and there were lack of such facilities. I never found students in mass there.
Its good that something is changing and more and more students will come to library to seek their studies. :)

Dravid ensures easy win for India

Rahul Dravid led India to a convincing six-wicket victory over the West Indies in the second league match of the IndianOil Cup at the Rangiri Dambulla International stadium in Dambulla, Sri Lanka, on Sunday.

Full coverage:: India - West Indies