Arugudi

उन सूनी सड़कों के परछाइ में, किसी गली के आखरी नुक्कड़ पे, उन अंधेरी काली रास्तों में, सफर करते थे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। लोगों के शोर शराबों के बीच, दुनिया के झूमती फितरतों के किनारे, अनजान सड़कों के चक्कर लगाते हुए, सफर करते थे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। उभरती भारत के नए सपने लिए, बदलती सवेरे के इंतजार में, रोज़ हजारों ठोकर खाते हुए, सफर करते थे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। कल के लिए ख्वाब बुने, मेहेनत से ना खथराते हुए, अंधेरे में उम्मीद की रोशनी ढूंढते, सफर करते थे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। इतिहास को गवाह रखते हुए, गांधी और बोस, दोनों को चुनते हुए, समाज में क्रांति की उम्मेद लिए, सफर करते थे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। इन सपनों को चीरती एक बिजली खड़की, बिखरती उम्मीद वक़्त ना पूछती, कामोशियों को हर दिन सेहेते, सफर करने लगे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। आशा और उम्मीद ढूँढ़ते हुए, बिखरी सपनों के हिस्सों को जोड़ते हुए, नए सपने देखने की हिम्मत करते, सफर करने लगे दो मुसाफिर, मैं और मेरी तनहाई। जीत की शहनाई की गूंज के तालाश में, हौसला और हिम्मत की बैसाखियों के सहार...

पैदा होते ही देखी एक चेहरा है, ना जाने उन्हें कैसे हमारी इतनी पहचान है, कहानियों से उन्हें बेहत प्यार है, और मेरे मुस्कुराहट की उन्हें हमेशा से इंतजार है। याद है उनकी बचपन में सिखाई हुई वो साइकिल, साथ है हर पल खतरों से बचाती हुई उनकी नजरें, हौसला बढ़ाने वाली वो हिम्मत भरी बातें, मुश्किलों से निकलने की वो बेशकीमती तरकीबें। केहेते है वे हमसे की, "हो तुम जहान में सब से परे, दुनिया जीतने की क्षमता है तुम में।" नमन करता हूं आज मैं उन मेहेनाती हाथों को, जिन्होंने इस लायक बनाया है इस शैतानी लड़के को। केहेते है, सपने हर कोई देखता है, पर उन्होंने तो सपने हमारे नज़रों से ही देखी है। वादा करते है आज ये हम उनसे, हमेशा सच्चे रहेंगे खुदसे, उनके लिए।।

“Are you even listening to me?” he asked with his impatience evident in his tone. “Hmmm…” was the meek reply. “Seriously? That’s all?” he asked, this time with his hands stretched, making an obvious gesture, as the person in front of him didn’t even bother to look up from the file. “Hmmm…” came the faint response. It was a very tense moment for Saketh. He was trying to make a revelation he had never thought he would make, at any point in his life. His approach to situations like these would normally include storming out of the room and making himself unavailable until things got sorted out by itself. But, this time, it was different. He, somehow, stood glued to the spot. Even though his brain directed his legs to scoot, the signals were somehow not reaching its desired destination. His heart had made it very clear that it was time to stay. The logical Saketh was overridden by his emotional self, a self he would normally acquaint with only in solitude.  The stone face was melting, m...

With the sun finishing its daily routine at this end of the earth, indicated by the beautiful reddish orange hue at a distance, I closed my laptop for the last time that day, with a huge sigh of relief.  The long day had, sadly, forced a dramatic change in my accustomed schedule. I could no longer flaunt a cheeky smile every time there was a mention about coffee in the office. My hard-earned reputation of not missing any of my customary coffee breaks every hour, even if all hell broke lose, was never to be the same again. With a heavy heart and a heavier bag, shoulders drooped and eyebrows drawn, I walked out of my office into the semi-lit Street number 18 in Attapur, Hyderabad, which was my temporary hideout for  the next two weeks. From the outside, this four storey building could hardly be recognized in between the several taller edifices that cramped it for space.  'Whoosh…' something small but fast, buzzed in front of me. I instinctively leaned backwards avoiding an ...

"Aaj daaru tera bhai pilayega…” said the man trying to balance a bottle of Blender’s Pride on his head with one leg in the air, mimicking what could hardly be considered a bhangra pose, desperately trying to show that he was not drunk. “Yeh tera bhai, aaj tujhe pilayega bi aur khilayega bi. Today I’m very happy that you are here…” This was Hakku's routine after a couple of his pegs that would put patiala pegs to shame. The dramatic side of this otherwise massive six feet three inches tall grumpy giant, would see the light only after his so called 'amrut' found its way into his stomach, opening the box of miracles which, in his words, was the key to his “andruni khazana”. “Oye, Ranveer Singh could balance a diya on the tip of his sword in Padmavat, aur tera yaar Hardeep Singh, a bottle of BP on his head, that too at 2AM. Now tell who is better, Ranveer or Hardeep?” asked the Punjab- da- puttar in his pure Delhi accent with his right hand twirling his mustache to create ...