My God in Ayodhya

Sep30 2010. Today's the verdict. Well, not the final one. But, it's got to be a milestone. The saffrons are there. The greensas well. Will they embrace white and thus complete the Tricolour regardless of the verdict or will they paint the land red? Time will tell, like it has always done in BR Chopra's Mahabharat.

In the meanwhile, what does that man have to say who, in all this hullabaloo around him, has ironically been pushed to the sidelines? He's called by various names. He's Rama, whose place of birth is as contentious as Lindsay Lohan's life. He's Rahim, whose dream of a blemish-free religion has been mercilessly stoned to death.

Probably this is what my God wants to scream out.

dafna do mujhe

chaurahe pe

kabr khod do meri

ya jalaa do

kuch sookhi lakdiyon ke saath

maar to tumne

kal hi diya tha

cheekha tha bahot

pehle

koshishein ki thi

samjhane ki

manaane ki

bataane ki

tum nahi samjhe

koi nahi samjha

ungliyan uthi

uthti rahi

bas

ab numaish mat karo

meri

mere nange jism ki

rooh toh rahi nahi

bahot pehle hi

chhod gayi

sikudi

simti

le jaao mujhe

daal aao kahin

apni is duniya se door

bahot door

waise bhi tumhari is duniya mein rakha kya hai??

So ja bachche, laado so ja

Meri Rajjo, meri laado

Baarah baras ki ho gayi aaj

Gubbare laaye hain iske chachu

Chhupte chhupate

Karfoo laga hai na ghaati mein

Nikalna manaa hai

Apne ghar se apne hi bageeche mein

Nikalna manaa hai

Teen gubbare laaye hain

Teeno laal

Bada pasand hai rajjo ko

Bachpan se koi aur rang

Dekha hi nahi na bechari ne

Raaton ko jab shor machta hai

Sannate ka

Neend nahi aati laado ko

Kehti hai ammi, kahani sunao

Sona hai

Thapkiyan deti hun usey

Is dozakh ke dard ke saath

Is dozakh ke jhooth ke saath

"Nahi rahe jo baag bageeche

Kal se dekhna fir se khilenge

Tootey jo saawan ke jhooley

Kal se dekhna fir se hilenge

Aag ka gola nahi girega

Tu ghar se bahar niklegi

So ja bachche, laado so ja

Kal se thandi hawa bahegi"

--

Ek awaz si aayi toh hai

Dil mera dehla to hai

Rajjo, uth ja, Rajjo

Bahot so liya

Uth ja na

Rajjo

Fire And Flood

A sordid tale

Of desert storms

And some frozen blood

Strewn around

The skulls and bones

Unnoticed, unheard

Some purple petals

Of a black rose

Dead from within

Fixated

Obsessed, repulsed

By the raging flood

Pink Freud

Dawn had never been more beautiful. More painful, neither. Critters filled in the uncomfortable silence. Still in his arms, she rolled down the window. The wind was misty. Or, perhaps, it was the heaviness of her thoughts. It had rained, probably. There were droplets on the glass. Few and far between, like stars on a cloudy night. And there was her face - the moon - going back into the darkness of anonymity after shining so bright all night long.

It was a night of ecstasy. Of liberation. Of emancipation. Of flight. Of fantasy. Of love, or whatever was left of it.

He had never been there before - in the concaves of her body. But she didn’t stop him this time, ironically, when she was about to walk away from it all in a few moments. How else could she have carried his memories with herself. She had to. She had to, if she wanted to survive among the ghosts of the past and the wolves of the future. And she did. A part of him: his being.

And then it happened. Beads. Big ones. All of a sudden. Uncontrollably. Inexplicably.

She hadn’t cried for ages. Ages, that had been dark and cruel to her. Times, that had made her feel like a worthless blot on humanity. Today it whelmed over. Over and over again.

One

The rustle of the leaves was excruciating. The pitter-patter of the rain drops on the asbestos could drive him crazy. The wind had been blowing for far too long. It had to stop now. He held the stainless steel blade in his right hand and brought it near the left wrist for the fourth time. Somehow, he could not gather the courage to go through with it.

He had stayed there - motionless - staring at her brutally violated body. She was pregnant of four months with his child. They had all raped her in turns, laughing and moaning like maniacs from hell. She kept on begging for mercy, bleeding like a leaking tap. They had then stabbed her at all possibly painful places with a butcher's knife and then slit her throat. All in front of his eyes. His limbs were tied disabling any possible motion. Honour killing couldn't have been more dishonourable. How could he live with himself without avenging the trauma? Next Panchayat session, he shot all the six bastards dead.

This wasn't the world he had lived in. This wasn't the world he knew. It had moved ahead. He hadn't. Twenty-four years in the Central Jail had made him everything but someone who could adjust to this new world from a sci-fi movie.

The first night. It was a 'room' for four. The lights went out. The biggest of the three roomies took a three-feet pipe out of his bedding and hit him in the jaws. It was physically the most painful thing he had ever experienced. Still gasping with disbelief on being caught off guard like this, he couldn't think of anything while the fatso kept on hitting him on the teeth. Not to beat him to death. But only because they could have him go on for all-nighters without the fear of his biting their penises away. And he did go on for nights, performing his duties, both ways, for months.

The text above is the first in the series of steps of an experiment. Kindly excuse the randomness, absurdity and abruptness of the same and comment only on the picturesqueness/style/connect/narration. Consider it as a big help that you'd do to me in an auctorial endeavour of mine in the very near future.

Khalish

Khalish hai ragon mein, chubhan si badi hai
Ye jaam koi hataa lo yahan se

Na ho jaaye paagal ye gumnaam kaafir
Tasveer unki hataa lo yahan se

Tazeer si hai ye goshanasheeni
Deedar hota hai unka yahan se

Dum-e-waapasi ko toh aana nahi hai
Janaaza hamara nikalo yahan se

[khalish: pain | chubhan: pain | ragon: nerves | jaam: intoxication | gumnaam: lost/unknown | kaafir: unbeliever | tasveer: picture | tazeer: punishment | goshanasheeni: being in the corner | deedar: view | dum-e-waapasi: the last breath | janaaza: funeral]

A Lot Of Mush. A Lot Of Room.

“Hey silly, marry me!”
“What?”
“Marry me, you shithead!”
“I can’t hear you. Call me up from the next station.”
“Aaaaai saaaidddd, Wouuuuuuld youuu marrrrrrrrry meeeee?” Standing on the doorsteps of C1, he screamed at the top of his voice; as if it would make up for the poor telecom connectivity.

Whoever coined the phrase “madly in love” was a genius. These two ‘iddiots’ knew what it meant. And they wanted to be exactly this mad all their life. Half the time they fought. The rest they made up. But they loved each other. Madly.

He didn’t want to hear stuff about other guys. He didn’t like it when she went out for coffee with them every single day. And he got irritated way too soon. She was paranoid about his ex. And she had a special ability to misinterpret everything he said. He cracked jokes none else on earth would even chuckle at. And she laughed her guts out every single time. Her jokes were even worse. And he made his special comments on them much to her chagrin.

Anything she loved was sure to be despised by him. Anything he fancied didn’t mean anything to her. He loved butter scotch. She hated it. He preferred to keep a ‘Plan B’ with himself. She never cared.

She read like crazy. He thought books were dog-piss. She loved Ronan Keating. He thought it was an insult to music. He was a movie maniac. Errrr, she wasn’t. She loved Julia Roberts. He was scared of the size of Julia’s mouth. He smoked like a chimney. She couldn’t stand the smell of it. He drank like a fish. She abhorred drunkards.

They had nothing to talk over the phone. Absolutely nothing. She never wanted to hang up. And he didn’t find logic in not doing so when there was nothing to be said. She loved the silences as well. He usually didn’t.

She wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t perfect. They broke up every week and patched up again.

He even forgot her first birthday together!!! “Its my birthday. You can wish me now,” she said at 0030 hours. She gave him a surprise visit a day before his first birthday together.

They had nothing in common. Unusually nothing. Creepily nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. They were the two opposite poles created by God in two totally different moods.

But when they met, they became the best things that ever happened to each other. The way they held hands. The way they looked at each other. The way he cared that extra bit not to hurt her while combing her hair. The way she filtered the information he didn’t want to hear. The way they could just sit there, saying nothing at all and it didn’t seem to bother. The way they could keep on blabbering any fucked-up shit about anything on earth. And it didn’t even have to make sense. The way he patted her forehead. The way she held his hand to her cheek. The way they touched. The way they hugged. The way they kissed.

This was love. They knew it. They were sure of it.

And they both loved mushrooms.

“You know I can’t.”
“What you can’t?”
“I can’t marry you right now.”
:|

“I mean, you’re there on the train and I have these darn exams.”
“Aaaaargh bitch. Would you tell me already?”
“Awww, that’s the sweetest way a guy could ever propose. Are you even on your knees?”
“I now am, fuckwit. You know I can fall off the train like this.”
“Yeah whatever. So you were saying something.”

“Babe. Growing old with you and arthritis isn’t half as bad and scary as sitting here near the door of this compartment. For the love of God and in the name of his arse, please be considerate enough to tell me if you would like to see this same ugly face, crooked nose and huge ears by the side of your bed every damned morning all your life?”

“Ummm. Lemme think. What are the options?”
“Well its just me and Shahid Kapoor.”
“In that case…”

There were jolts. Uncharacteristic jolts. Dammit. It shook ominously. He tried to get up stretching his arm to get hold of the rod next to the door. But somehow he couldn’t. The boggie seemed to revolve around a vertical axis. He got thrown towards the ceiling that accelerated towards the ground. And his head hit it. Real bad.

Blood. Silence.
--

He was a ‘Punching-Bag’. She was a ‘Pain-In-The-Ass’.

मैं शायर गुमनाम - 1

These are some of the shers I wrote long back when my life was all shit. Today, I'm the luckiest person on earth.

Gaur farmayein! :)

Sailab
Har hanstey chehre ke peechhe kai sailab hote hain,

Wo dard hi kya jo sar-e-aam beparda ho jaaye...

Zinda

Nabz chal rahi hai, saansein le rahe hain,

Khud ko zinda kehne ka dil nahi kar raha...

Aag

Kaali andheri is raat ki jaane kab subah hogi,

Andar ki is aag se ujala kyun nahi hota...

Aandhi

Ik aandhi kya aayi aasra khojne lagey,

Us toofaan ka kya jismein akela chhod diya humein...

Der

Todna hi tha dil toh itni der kyun lagai,

Uunchaai se girakar zakhm dena chahte they aap...

Insanely Serene

Tired, confused, alone

Vacuum inside my soul

I'm honest, I've always been

I'll never be in your control

I beg not for approval

Of skin, of bones, of blood

A foreign fear inside

Of slipping away unheard

I try, I cry, I die

The tears, the sky, the night

A dark, abandoned cave

Rotting to survive

Enough, the spirit hurts

She's caged, its been a while...

...The wind against my face

The light of being alive.

So close! So far!

They were never strangers

To each other. Even though

They had never met,

They had never talked

He'd been through a lonesome road

And he had suffered enough

He had fought the world

And the devils inside his soul

The walls had been closing in

He was suffocated by the noise

He was tired, way too tired

But he would die to hear Her voice

And there She was finally

In the white robe he had sent

She was an angel, so beautiful

Arms outstretched She came

But in a flash everything changed

Her bosom was all so red

She came and fell into his arms

Trying to utter his name

The bullet that hadnt touched him

She took it for Her "love"

And the voice he fought to hear

Would always remain unheard

Kartey Nahi Hum

Ho chali hai aadat zeher peene ki ab

Dil chhota yuhi kartey nahi hum

Dhuan hai, nasha hai ya deewangi hai

Ye soch aahein bhartey nahi hum

Lagti hai thokar jab raastey mein

Ashqon ko zaaya kartey nahi hum

Raha hoga shayad fasana koi sa

Nafrat ke sholon mein jaltey nahi hum

Peshani pe harf godey khuda ne

Mukammal jahan chaaha kartey nahi hum

Par ye bhi sach hai gaye hain wo jabse

Jeetey nahi hum, martey nahi hum

Ashq- tears; zaaya- waste; fasana- story; peshani- forehead; harf- words; godey- engraved; Mukammal- complete

Kasoor

Aaj phir se aayi hai sharam, Aaj phir se darr lagaa hai

Aaj phir hum hain akeley, Aakhir hamara kasoor kya tha?

Aaj phir chuppi hai chhayi, Aaj phir aandhi hai aayi

Aaj phir se hai andhera, Aakhir hamara kasoor kya tha?

Aaj phir thukraye gaye hain, Aaj phir dhokha hua hai

Aaj phir jhaanka hai khud mein, Aakhir hamara kasoor kya tha?

Aaj phir kashma-kash hai wahi, Aaj phir dil hai ye roya

Aaj phir 'Gumnaam' hain hum, Aakhir hamara kasoor kya tha?

--

I'm not sure if the following lines can do justice to the lines above, but an english translation follows for the Hindi-impaired friends :)

Yet again I am ashamed, Yet again I am afraid

Yet again I am alone, Where the heck did I go wrong?

Yet again there's a silence, Yet again its all too dark

Yet again I'm stuck in (a) storm, Where the heck did I go wrong?

Yet again I've been rejected, Yet again its been a betrayal

Yet again I peek into my soul, Where the heck did I go wrong?

Yet again the dilemma has crept, Yet again the heart has wept

Yet again I am so lost, Where the heck did I go wrong?

How I Wish...

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta

Out exclusively on Broken Records

Download Song(link) : Low sound. Kindly use ear/head phones.

How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight

I just can't, stop the tears, rolling down my eyes

Memories, bothering, of what used to be

Of the love, of the life, that you gave to me

How I want, honestly, I could stay a while

How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight

बातें वो अनकही, बातें वो अनसुनी, जिनको कहना तो था, पर दबी रह गयीं

कहना चाहूँ मैं उनको अभी जानेजाँ

ख्वाबों का कारवां, जो चला ही नहीं, उड़ना चाहे है वो, एक पल को सही

जानेजाँ...जानेजाँ...

हाथ ये, छोड़कर, मैं न जाऊं कहीं

How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight...

That Bitch!

What do you do...

...when nothing's under control?

How does it feel...

...when you miss it from this close?

Where do you go...

...to find strength in this pain?

Who do you trust...

...when life's a bitch again?

रावण

बिलखती आई वो मेरे पास

चीथड़ो में मुरझी हुई

टूटी चप्पलें पहनी थी उसने

रूखे बालों में तेल नहीं

"भैया, पापा फिर पी के आये हैं."

हस्सो कहते हैं सब उसको

प्यारी सी परी सी है

दो सौ वाट के बल्ब सी आँखें

जिनमें अब नमी सी है

"भैया, तू कुछ करता क्यूँ नहीं?"

तीन छोड़ के घर है उसका

दौड़ती वह आई है

खिलखिला के हंसती थी जो

आज उदासी छाई है

"भैया, पापा ने मम्मी को फिर मारा."

कहानियां सुनती है मुझसे

निरी सारी खुदाई की

राम की और रावण की

अच्छाई और बुराई की

"भैया, रावण को मारो ना."

Tinted Glass

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta

Out exclusively on Broken Records

Download Song (link). Low sound. Kindly use ear/head phones.

There'll be moments, it'll be hard to love each other

There'll be times, we won't look into the eyes

There'll be things, we would say on the face

Everything would seem like one big lie

There'll be places, we would die to run off to

There'll be people, and ready shoulders

There'll be pain, (yes, there will be!) it'll seem we've had enough

We'll ask ourselves: could it be any worse

Chorus

At that time baby, we'll need to hang in

Do what we do the best, Just keep believing

Believe in the promises, we made to each other

Got lost in the mists of time, and fake covers

Believe in ourselves, believe in our love

Believe in the fate and what it has for us

Believe in the God, believe in His plans

Believe in the list that we made of 'We Can's

I know I know, its a big risk we're taking

But you know what, we might not want to have the doubts

And make sure that, we read nothing between the lines

We sure could stop seeing through that tinted glass

We'll see for ourselves, life is not all that tough

When someone picks us up, when we fall down

When there's someone, we can trust with our lives

Who'll hold our hand (when we have) to cross the road

Chorus fades.

No Sign Of You

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta

Out exclusively on Broken Records.

Download Song (link) [Low volume. Use head/ear phones]

Lyrics:

Its been two hours, you said you will be here.

I booked for two, on this roof top.

The candle flames dance with the breeze...

Its a starry night, critters singing sweet.

The guitar's tuned. There is no one around.

The table cloth's wet with the mist...

I have loosened the knot of your favourite tie I'm wearing only for you...

Your cell phone's switched off, I've tried a hundred times, there's still no sign of you...

Baby, miss you. I really miss you.

I miss the way you laugh at my silly jokes;

I miss the way you make me feel.

I miss the silences, endless, when eyes do the talking.

Baby, miss you. I really miss you...

Dyin' For A Living

- Written, Composed and Performed by Varun Gupta

Out exclusively on Broken Records

Download Song (Apologies for the obvious things :P)

Lyrics:

I see people all around me

I see lots of them.

Everybody’s goin’ crazy

Everywhere is a new mayhem.

All the time they’re runnin’

It’s not their fault;

They’re dyin’ for a living

Nothing’s under control.

All I want to say, All I want to do,

Is to make them realize, none of this is true.

I would say to them, “Look around you,

Think of the best things, may be count a few...

You can wake up

With the woman you love;

Kiss her good morning

While she’s still not up.

You can see the birds

Heading back to home;

And Think of your children

Waitin till you come.

You can watch the rain

Thinkin’ what it was like;

When you were a kid of eight

And you realize

It was a lot better

You were in no hurry;

There wasn’t a deadline

There was no worry...

Change

This was what I scribbled on a piece of paper in Gurdit's notepad while listening to Michael Ferreira. Just wanted to share...

Change

- Written and composed by Varun Gupta

Out exclusively on Broken Records.

Does it really...

...make a difference...

...how the times are strange?

Do you ever feel...

...honestly...

...it's for you to change?

It's a place where everybody's

Busy dealing or stealing,

Where if you aren't somebody

Then dude, you are nobody!

Do you ever stop...

...stop and think...

...where we're going to?

Is there anything...

...anyone...

...of us can do???

-X-

Soemthing not really related to the context...but can be used to convey the message...of a desperately needed change:

Lost Generation

I promise I will...

- Written and composed by Varun Gupta

The most important, most special song that I ever wrote. She said a "Yes!"

I will wake you up with a coffee in bed,

Every once in a while, I will do the dishes;

I promise we'll watch all your favourite shows together,

I'll keep all the stuff back in their places.

I promise I will...

I promise I will...

I promise I will...

I will hold your hair back when you wanna throw up,

When you feel like coughing, I'll get ya cough syrup; [:P]

I will stash my work away and help ya in the crossword,

I'll keep looking at you when you take hours on make-up.

I promise I will...

I promise I will...

I promise I will...

I will hold you close when the movie's scary,

I will read stories to you when you can't sleep baby;

I'll be back on time from office, bring your favourite flowers,

I will take holidays and we'll visit your mommy...

I wanna grow old with you...

I really wanna grow old with you...

Will you grow old with me...

Will you...grow old with me...