tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81240364737809292682024-02-19T08:28:35.143-08:00The Indelible NibScribbles Emotions into Stories
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02457886177909595106noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-67003065197559230532016-05-07T23:39:00.004-07:002016-05-07T23:39:57.287-07:00MOM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span data-offset-key="3578t-0-0">Dear Maa,</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="qb3m-0-0">I wish a day was enough to appreciate mothers, but I feel elated that there is specifically a day that acknowledges your presence.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="d600r-0-0">With each passing day, I miss you more and more. I vividly remember the day I left home, I was so excited to explore the world and achieve my goals that I almost forgot to thank you for everything you did for me. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dh9no-0-0">Do you know maa, food at mess is tasteless and everytime I eat it, I get nostalgic thinking about your handmade food. Not even the best cook at a five star hotel could make the food taste as your magical hands did.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3evsv-0-0">Do you know maa, I feel drowsy whenever I study at night in my single seater room? I still remember those sleepless nights you spend with me during my board exams serving me tea whenever I yawned. I do have friends here who are nocturnal, but I still haven't find a companion like you.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bjsrd-0-0">Do you know maa, I often wear the same T-shirt for 3 days at a stretch. It does stink, but now I realise how hard it is to wash clothes. No matter I use a deodorant or a perfume, but nothing smells like the fragrance your hands left on my clothes.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="cn13s-0-0">Do you know maa, I have myriad friends in this college and they do hug me, kiss me and pamper me whenever I am broken. No matter how hard they try, but nothing feels promising like the forehead kiss you gave me every night.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1cig5-0-0">So, I take this day to say the unsaid. To thank you for all the selfless love and care you showered on me. To say sorry for shouting at you and blaming you whenever anything unfavourable happened. I take this day to say, I love you and I miss you even more with each passing day.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="a5usm-0-0">From a kid who lives away from home.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-15425002263114094472016-05-02T21:50:00.002-07:002016-05-02T21:50:43.428-07:00Let's talk about Equality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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She wants freedom.<br />Yes, she wants to explore the world like her brother does.<br />But Alas! She expects father or brother to drop her to the coaching institute.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She wants equal rights.<br />Yes, she is the one who parades on a March and light candles for female equality.<br />But Alas! She is the one who claims for reserved seats in Metros and buses.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She wants to be ‘Independent’.<br />Yes, that’s the word she flaunts every day.<br />But Alas! She is the one who expects her boyfriend to pay on their date.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She wants to marry a settled man.<br />Yes, she does have a decent earning.<br />But Alas! She herself earns meager salary but wants a man who earns gigantic salary.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She hates giving dowry.<br />Yes, she will marry the one who doesn’t demand dowry.<br />But Alas! She is the one who expects her father to throw a hefty marriage and pamper her with plush gifts.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She wants to continue her job after marriage.<br />Yes, she will work the same way as her husband does.<br />But Alas! She would never bear the household expenses after all it is the man's duty to bear expenses.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She wants a girl child.<br />Yes, she doesn’t discriminate between a boy and a girl.<br />But Alas! She would expect her daughter-in-law to deliver a baby boy.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She loves her in-laws.<br />Yes, she would continue to love them more and more.<br />But Alas! She would love them only if they leave the house and shift to another.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She is against rapes.<br />Yes, she runs NGOs to support victims of rape and abuses.<br />But Alas! She molested a man last night and intimidated him.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.</div>
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She fights for rights.<br />Yes, she is the one who wants stringent laws in favour of women.<br />But Alas! She misused the laws against men and made herself a victim in front of others.<br />Oh! Wait, but she is the feminist and she wants equality to prevail.<br />~~<br />It is easy to talk about equality but tougher to follow it. It’s easy to say that women need men only to have a child. No, women and men needs each other throughout their life. This is how it is meant to be. Men are indeed the best part of a woman's life. Please, do not forget to acknowledge it. Just look at your parents and think for while what if they had thought the same. Would you have survived?</div>
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Men are the ones who make women's lives beautiful. Yes, I agree, there are some monsters roaming around this world but claiming that only men are monsters, wouldn’t be right. We judge people and become fault finders, but never stop to think that we are at fault too. Let’s talk about making this world better. Let’s not talk about female equality but instead talk about gender equality.</div>
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<img alt="Social Media, Monitor, Exchange, Screen, Faces" height="270" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/07/27/08/19/social-media-862133_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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Pic Courtesy- Pixabay.com</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-411920797355559322016-04-26T04:14:00.001-07:002016-05-02T21:53:36.284-07:00सरहदें<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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नायक सुशील कुमार <br />
उम्र - 22 वर्ष<br />
ब्लड ग्रुप - ओ +<br />
यूनिट - 14 मराठा </div>
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अस्पताल में अपने बिस्तर पर लेटे हुए सुशील की नज़रें अनायास ही अपने बेड के दाहिने छोर पर लगी इस पर्चे पर चली जाती थी । तीन हफ़्ते गुज़र चुके थे लड़ाई को पर उसकी ज़िन्दगी तो अब बस इस बिस्तर तक ही सीमित रह गयी थी । इस जंग ने उससे उसकी आज़ादी छीन ली थी । जंग में गया तो था भारत माँ का एक वीर सपूत था , एक नौजवान जिसकी नसों में देशभक्ति का लावा धधक रहा था , पर जो लौट कर आया वो एक अपाहिज था जिसने जंग तो जीत ली थी पर किस्मत से हार गया था और धीरे धीरे मौत के आगोश में समाता जा रहा था । </div>
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तीन हफ्तों के बाद भी सुशील इस बात का विश्वास नहीं कर पा रहा था की अब उसकी टाँगे नहीं रहीं । उसके लिए ये सब एक बुरे सपने जैसा था जो ख़तम ही नहीं हो रहा था । उन निर्जीव जाँघों में उसे अभ भी हलचल महसूस हो रही थी । आँखें बता रही थी की अब नहीं हैं तुम्हारे पास पाँव पर उसका दिमाग ये मानने को तैयार नहीं था ।</div>
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तभी बेड नंबर 17 को बाहर निकाल जाने लगा । सुशील मुस्कुराया , एक ऐसी मुस्कान जो उसकी किस्मत को ताना मार रही हो की मैं जानता हूँ यह मेरे साथ भी जल्दी ही होगा ।</div>
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अगली सुबह बेड नंबर 17 फिर भर चुका था । इस बार उसमें था एक पाकिस्तानी सिपाही , असलम । अपनी प्लाटून का सिर्फ वही एक जीवित सदस्य बचा था । उसके चेहरे पर गोली लगी थी और कमर के नीचे का पूरा शरीर लकवाग्रस्त हो चुका था । उसे मानवता की बिनाह पर भारत में उपचार के लिए लाया गया था । <br />
हालाँकि सबके मन में उस मुल्क़ के लिए नफ़रत थी जहां से वो आया था पर हर दिल से उसके लिए दुआ ही निकल रही थी । उसकी इस दशा को देख सबका मन पसीजा था ।<br />
सुशील और असलम एक ही वार्ड में थे । दोनों ही असहनीय दर्द से गुज़रते हुए अपने अपने बिस्तर पर लेटे थे । चूँकि , वार्ड में कुछ ही लोग थे , तो सबको एक दूसरे के होने का आभास था । असलम के बारे में ही ज्य़ादातर बातें होती थी । उसके परिवार के बारे में भी पता लगाने की कोशिश ज़ारी थी । उसकी हालत देख कर हर एक आँख नम थी सिवाय सुशील के । जिसने भी इसका कारण पूंछा तो बड़े रूखेपन से सुशील ने एक ही रटा रटाया जवाब दिया की इसके और इसके देश के कारण ही मैं अपनी सारी ज़िन्दगी अपाहिज रहूँगा या शायद मर भी जाऊं । नहीं , मैं इसे या इसके देश को कभी नहीं माफ़ कर सकता ।</div>
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एक और सुबह , एक और ख़ाली बेड । इस बार यह सुशील का था । एक काली सुबह थी वो । अपने साथी को बिछड़ते देख जो चार हफ़्तों तक उनके साथ रहा था , सबका दिल बैठा जा रहा था । <br />
बाहर बारिश हो रही थी , वैसी नहीं जैसी हमेशा होती है । ऐसा लग रहा था की भगवान भी एक वीर सिपाही की शाहादत का शोक मना रहें हों जिसकी ज़िन्दगी को एक बार फिर शरहदों की जंग ने क्रूरता से छीन लिया हो । <br />
बाहर टेलीविजनों पर सुशील को वीर चक्र देने की घोषणा हो चुकी थी । नेता उसे देश का वीर सपूत कह रहे थे और उसके नाम पर किसी सड़क का नाम रखने का ऐलान कर रहे थे । विपक्ष की मांग थी कि सड़क नहीं , हवाई अड्डा बने सुशील के नाम पर । </div>
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सुशील और ना जाने कितने की सिपाहियों की जाने ये समझाने में जा चुकी थी कि जंग का परिणाम सिवाय बर्बादी के कुछ नहीं होता । दोनों देश अपनी अपनी तरफ़ युद्ध में विजयी होने का दंभ भर रहे थे ।<br />
सुशील का बेड बाहर निकाला जा रहा था । वो एक सिपाही जिसकी तरफ़ उसने देखा तक नहीं था , उसका सिर भी सुशील के लिए सजदे में झुका हुआ था और दोनों आँखों से आंसू बह रहे थे। जिस इंसान को देख ऐसा लगता था की वो असलम से नफ़रत करता है , उसने अपनी मृत्यु पर उसे एक ऐसा तोहफ़ा दिया जो हर सरहद को मिटाने में सक्षम है । वो तोहफ़ा था प्यार का ।</div>
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असलम जी भर के देख लेना चाहता था इस वीर सिपाही को जिसके कारण आज एक बार फिर वो देख पा रहा था । जो अपनी मौत से पहले अपनी दोनों आँखें असलम को दान करने को कह गया । जो मरते मरते भी दुनिया को प्यार का , शान्ति का ,अमन का पैग़ाम दे गया ।<br />
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<img alt="Monument, Statue, Silhouette, Sunset, Sky, Clouds" height="320" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2013/06/20/16/11/monument-140320_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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Pic Courtesy: Pixabay.com</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0Kanpur Nagar,26.40469 80.37303tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-5013482043319712572016-04-26T04:11:00.001-07:002016-05-02T21:54:42.057-07:00How Can You Not<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Everything he saw in me made me fall deeper for him for it wasn't mere lust but the beauty of his heart.</div>
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How can you not love the eyes so great?</div>
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Every word he spoke to me made me fall harder for they weren't just the words but his heart.</div>
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How can you not love a heart so pure? </div>
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Everything he wrote for me, made me fall again , for they weren't mere thoughts that he penned but the truth of his life. </div>
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How can you not love the thoughts so deep?</div>
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Every time he held me, it made me fall all over again for him for it wasn't a mere touch but the piousness of his love.</div>
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How can you not worship the love so divine?</div>
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Every time he confessed his love, it made me fall harder for him for they were not just feelings but his soul put in words.</div>
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How can you not love a soul so immaculate?</div>
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<img alt="Apple, Love, Heart" height="266" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2014/12/17/01/33/apple-570965_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-90123486660279405912016-04-26T04:10:00.001-07:002016-05-02T21:56:43.064-07:00आख़िरी ख़त<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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19 फरवरी 2016</div>
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प्रिय आलोक ,</div>
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जानती हूँ नाराज़ हो । होना भी चाहिए , तुम्हें पूरा हक़ है । इस बार तो कारण भी है , बिना बताये इतनी दूर जो आगयी हूँ। पर क्या करती ? मज़बूरी थी ।<br />
माना अन्याय किया है तुम्हारे साथ पर मेरा विश्वास करो , ऐसा नहीं चाहती थी मैं। तुम्हारे साथ सारी उम्र गुज़ार देना चाहती थी । हर पल , हर लम्हे में बस तुम्हारा साथ ही चाहिए था । यह पत्र लिखना मेरी ज़िन्दगी का सबसे कठिन पल था । जानते हो क्यों ? क्योंकि तुम्हें अलविदा कह रही हूँ । मुझे अंदेशा था की अब शायद जीवित वापस ना आ पाऊं इसलिए वो सब जो शायद तुम्हारे सामने नहीं कह पाती , लिख रही हूँ। <br />
जब आखिरी बार फ़ोन पर बात हुई तो तुम नहीं जानते कितना सुकून मिला था मुझे । एक तसल्ली थी की चैन से जा सकती हूँ अब । समझती हूँ तुम्हारे दर्द को , जानती हूँ घाव गहरा है । कितना अजीब है ना , मैं जो तुम्हारे दर्द का मरहम थी, वही तुम्हें ज़िन्दगी का सबसे बड़ा दर्द दे रही हूँ । पर क्या करूँ , तुम्हारी पत्नी होने के साथ साथ मैं एक सिपाही भी हूँ जिसने देश सेवा का प्रण लिया है । जंग में जाने से सिर्फ़ तुम्हारा प्यार ही मुझे रोक रहा है पर प्यार का दूसरा नाम ही त्याग है । <br />
अब जब की तुम्हें यह पत्र मिल गया है , इसका यही मतलब है कि मैं नहीं रही । और तुम किसी कोने में बैठ कर भगवान को कोस रहे होगे या अपनी किस्मत को ।<br />
पर आलोक , अब इन सब से क्या फ़ायदा ? मैं तो जा चुकी हूँ । इतनी दूर , जहां से मैं चाहकर भी नहीं वापस आ सकती । पर तुम क्यों खुद को तिल तिल मार रहे हो । सिर्फ़ मेरे जाने से ज़िन्दगी ख़तम नहीं हुई । माना तुम्हें गहरा आघात लगा है पर मरहम तो हर दर्द का है । मेरी यादें तुम्हारे साथ हमेशा रहेंगी पर मैं यह कभी नहीं चाहूंगी कि तुम इनमें पल पल घुटो । मेरा प्यार हमेशा तुम्हारी ताक़त रहा है , अब इसे ऐसी कमज़ोरी ना बनाओ , की तुम जी भी ना पाओ । <br />
तुम्हें फिर उठाना होगा , चलना होगा ज़िन्दगी के साथ । यूं पीछे नहीं छूट सकते तुम । मेरी हिम्मत हमेशा से तुम ही थे और अब तुम हार नहीं मान सकते । वो सब कुछ करो जो मेरे साथ होने पर करते । अपने सपने , हमारे सपने , माँ बाउजी के सपने , अभी तो कितना कुछ करना है तुम्हें ।<br />
काश यह कह पाती की बाकी बातें अगले पत्र में करुँगी पर शायद यह मौका अब ना मिले । मुझसे इतना प्यार करने के लिए शुक्रिया । इस छोटी ही सही पर , पर खुशहाल ज़िन्दगी में इतना प्यार और सम्मान क लिए धन्यवाद । शब्द नहीं हैं मेरे पास यह बताने को कि कितने मायने थे मेरी ज़िन्दगी में तुम्हारे ।<br />
आखिर में , यही कहना चाहती हूँ कि अपने दिल में प्यार के लिए दरवाज़े कभी बंद मत करना । फिर से इसे धड़कने की इज़ाज़त देना । मेरे कारण , किसी और को तुमसे प्यार करने से रोकना मत और ना ही खुद रुकना । जानती हूँ आसन नहीं है पर विश्वास करो , इतना मुश्किल भी नहीं । अपनी ज़िन्दगी में आगे बढ़ना । जब कभी पीछे मुड़कर देखोगे , मेरा प्यार हमेशा तुम्हारे साथ होगा ।<br /></div>
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तुम्हारी आशिमा</div>
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~कंचन</div>
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<img alt="Paper, Texture, Old, Structure, Parchment, Yellow, List" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2014/11/18/11/06/paper-535969_960_720.jpg" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0Kanpur, Kanpur26.449923 80.33187tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-28090236965197515132016-04-26T04:06:00.001-07:002016-05-02T21:55:56.669-07:00ममता<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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आज जब ऑफिस से घर आई तो थकावट बहुत ज़्यादा थी। ऑफिस में पार्टी थी तो खाना खा कर ही आई थी इसलिए तुरंत अपने कमरे में चली गयी। थोड़ी देर बाद जब पानी पीने बाहर आई तो देखा कि माँ के कमरे की बत्ती बंद है। मैं पानी लेकर बैठक में रखे सोफ़े पर बैठ गयी और टी.वी पर चैनल बदलने लगी कि अचानक मुझे कुछ पुराने दस्तावेज़ ढूंढना याद आया। </div>
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मैं स्टोर-रूम की बत्ती जलाकर अन्दर गयी और अपने कागज़ ढूँढने लगी कि तभी मेरी नज़र एक डायरी पर पड़ी।</div>
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वो मेरी नहीं थी क्योंकि मैं अपने राज़ किसी से साझा नहीं करती थी, किसी डायरी से भी नहीं। माँ की होगी यह सोच कर फिर मैं अपने काम में लग गयी पर ना जाने क्यों अब मेरा मन वो डायरी पढ़ने के लिए मचल रहा था। हालाँकि मेरी और माँ की कभी बनी नहीं पर आज ना जाने क्यों मैं खुद को उनकी ज़िन्दगी में झाँकने से रोक नहीं पायी। हमारे बीच के रिश्ते में ना जाने कब की तल्ख़ी आ चुकी थी पर आज उन्हें जानने का यह मौका मैं छोड़ना नहीं चाहती थी।</div>
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अपने कागज़ों को भूल मैं अपने बिस्तर पर आराम से बैठकर माँ की डायरी पढ़ने लगी।</div>
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19 जनवरी 92<br />
आज मुझे सड़क पर एक बच्ची मिली। बहुत ही प्यारी, ना जाने कैसे लोग होंगे जिन्होंने इतनी प्यारी बच्ची को ऐसे छोड़ दिया। मैं उसे पुलिस को दे आई हूँ और उसे गोद लेने के लिये अर्ज़ी भी लगा आई हूँ। अब बस मेरी अर्ज़ी स्वीकार हो जाए, मुझे और कुछ नहीं चाहिए।</div>
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25 जनवरी 92<br />
आज मेरी नन्हीं परी घर आ गयी। मेरी ज़िन्दगी अब पूरी हो गयी। भगवान मुझे आपसे कोई शिकायत नहीं है अब।</div>
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19 जनवरी 94<br />
आज रहम दो साल की हो गयी और आज ही उसने पहली बार मुझे माँ कहा। उसके इस एक शब्द ने मेरे हर एक दुःख-दर्द को ख़त्म कर दिया। आज उसने सही मायने में मुझे पूरा कर दिया।</div>
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18 अगस्त 94<br />
रहम बड़ी हो रही है। अब मुझे पैसों की ज़्यादा ज़रूरत पड़ेगी। रहम की अच्छी परवरिश के लिए बहुत पैसे लगेंगे। अब मुझे बहुत मेहनत करनी होगी।</div>
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20 जनवरी 96<br />
रहम मेरी ज़िंदगी में नेमत बन कर आई है। उसके आने से सब अच्छा ही हो रहा है। मेरा कारोबार भी अच्छा चल रहा है। अब हमारी ज़िंदगी में बस खुशियाँ होंगी।</div>
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1 अप्रैल 98<br />
आज रहम का उस बड़े वाले स्कूल में पहला दिन था। आज से उसकी ज़िंदगी की एक नयी शुरुआत हुई है। भगवान आप अपनी कृपा ऐसे ही बनाए रखना।</div>
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16 नवम्बर 2000<br />
काफ़ी दिन बाद लिख रही हूँ। अब फुर्सत ही नहीं मिलती। रहम अब तीसरी में पढ़ती है। शायद उसे स्कूल में सब मेरे अलग रंग-रूप के लिए चिढ़ाने लगे हैं। लोगों की परवाह नहीं है मुझे बस कहीं ये सब उसे मुझसे दूर ना कर दे। हे भगवान! दया करना।</div>
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30 जुलाई 02<br />
आज रहम ने मुझे बस स्टॉप तक आने से मना कर दिया। हालाँकि वो यही दिखा रही थी कि अब वो बड़ी हो गयी है और बस तक अकेले जा सकती है पर उसके अंदर आये बदलाव को मैं देख रही हूँ। बस इसी का डर था मुझे।</div>
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26 मार्च 02<br />
रहम अब 10 साल की हो गयी है और अपनी माँ से दूर, हॉस्टल में रहना चाहती है। सही भी है, अब उसे रोज़ रोज़ नए ताने नहीं सुनने होंगे अपने सहपाठियों से और वैसे भी इस शहर में इतने अच्छे स्कूल कहाँ है?</div>
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5 अप्रैल 02<br />
अब घर काटने को दौड़ता है। अकेले रहा नहीं जाता। दिन तो काम के बोझ में निकल भी जाता है पर रातें नहीं कटतीं। मेरी बच्ची, तुम ठीक तो हो ना। माँ तुम्हें बहुत याद करती है।</div>
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10 अप्रैल 2010<br />
स्कूल की पढ़ाई पूरी करके आज रहम वापस आ गयी है। अब हम माँ-बेटी खूब बातें करेंगे। इतने दिनों के बाद अब हम फिर से साथ रहेंगे।</div>
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15 अगस्त 10<br />
रहम का दाख़िला यहीं के आई.आई.टी में हो गया है। उसकी ज़िद में मैंने हॉस्टल तो दिला दिया है पर वो हर हफ़्ते मुझसे मिलने आया करेगी।</div>
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30 नवम्बर 10<br />
तीन महीने से ज्यादा समय हो गया पर रहम मुझसे मिलने नहीं आई। जब मैं जाती हूँ तब भी कोई न कोई बहाना मारकर आने से मना कर देती है। <br />
क्या समाज की तरह मेरी बेटी भी मुझसे नफ़रत करती है? उसकी उपेक्षा नहीं झेल पाऊँगी मैं। हे इश्वर! अब आप ही कुछ रास्ता दिखाएं।</div>
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19 नवंबर 14<br />
आज मेरी बेटी को नौकरी मिल गयी। सबसे ज़्यादा नंबरों से पास हुई है मेरी बेटी। मेरी तपस्या सफल हुई।<br />
उसे दिल्ली में ही नौकरी भी मिल गयी है। अब सब दूरियाँ ख़त्म।</div>
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25 जुलाई 15<br />
रहम बदल गयी है। गलती उसकी भी तो नहीं है। एक किन्नर की बेटी होना किसे पसंद है? शायद मेरी ही गलती है कि एक किन्नर होने के बाद भी मैंने उसे गोद लिया। कम से कम वो समाज में चल सकती थी बिना शर्मिंदगी के। मुझे माफ़ कर देना मेरी बच्ची।</div>
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27 फ़रवरी 16<br />
रिश्तों की डोर टूट चुकी है। हफ़्तों हमारी बात नहीं होती। <br />
उसके दोस्त जब घर आते हैं तो मैं कमरे से बाहर नहीं निकलती हूँ। उसने मना नहीं किया है पर मैं जानती हूँ उसे पसंद नहीं है मेरा उसके दोस्तों से मिलना।<br />
शायद इसीलिए हमें समाज से अलग कर दिया जाता है। हे इश्वर, इस बार तो ये ज़िंदगी दी पर आगे कभी नहीं। और किसी चीज़ से शिकायत नहीं है मुझे पर अपनी रहम की अवहेलना नहीं झेल सकती मैं।</div>
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अभी कुछ ही दिनों पहले की थी वो आखिरी तारीख। शायद मेरी प्रमोशन की खुशी में जब दोस्त अचानक घर आ गये थे और माँ को बंद दरवाज़े के पीछे से ये खबर मिली थी। याद है मुझे उनकी वो मायूस आंखें। ग्लानि हो रही थी मुझे खुद से। क्या नहीं किया माँ ने और मैंने इस कदर तड़पाया उन्हें। कहने को माँ कहती रही पर सच तो यह है कि कभी माँ का दर्जा दिया ही नहीं मैंने उन्हें। </div>
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अपने पापों का प्रायश्चित करने के लिए उसी समय मैंने माँ से माफ़ी माँगने का निर्णय लिया। अब उन्हें दुनिया की हर ख़ुशी दूँगी। बिना किसी शर्त के प्यार किया था उन्होंने मुझे, उनके हर दुःख की दवा बनने का इरादा कर लिया था मैंने।</div>
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सुबह के 6 बज रहे थे। नाश्ते के साथ माफ़ी माँग लूँगी ये सोच कर मैं रसोईघर में जा कर नाश्ता तैयार करने लगी। सब कुछ 7 बजे तक नाश्ता तैयार करके, मैं माँ के कमरे में पहुँची। धीरे से दरवाज़ा खोलकर जैसे ही मैंने बत्ती जलाई तो वहीं निर्जीव सी खड़ी रह गयी मैं। </div>
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सामने माँ पँखें से लटकी हुई थीं। नहीं, ख़ुदकुशी नहीं, हत्या थी वो। मेरी उपेक्षा ने जान ले ली थी उनकी। अपनी माँ की हत्यारिन मैं ही तो थी।</div>
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<img alt="Maple Leaf, Book, Reading, Dear Diary, Bookcase" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/02/16/08/02/maple-leaf-638022_960_720.jpg" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0Kanpur, Kanpur26.449923 80.33187tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-29224210359390165652016-04-06T23:16:00.001-07:002016-04-06T23:16:36.747-07:00*The first walk*<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I met her 3 years ago. The way she laid her eyes on me, made me fall for her immediately. I couldn’t stop smiling looking at her and she doesn’t even smile back. But how cannot someone praise the beauty like her. Endearing and winsome she was. I see her every day and fall for her every single moment. I love everything about her. The way she moves her eyeballs capturing whole world inside them. The way she laughs every time when I wink at her. The way she entwined her hands in mine.<br />
<br />
I adore her at every moment and capture the candid pictures of her inside my camera. It would be a sin to miss any moment of her. This is what happens when you fall in love with someone unconditionally.<br />
<br />
I talk her endlessly, detailing each and every moment happened throughout the day. She listens me patiently albeit her tired eyes speak otherwise. I must say, she is a good listener.<br />
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My every Sunday belongs to her. I don’t want to hang around with my friends anymore. I want myself around her 24*7. I love her making laugh and my ears feels at peace when I hear her laughing. She is the prettiest girl in the town. My girl.<br />
<br />
Last night when I carried her around my arms, she kissed me for the first time. It was priceless as first kiss is always special. I didn’t ask for it. She kissed me deliberately. The moment her lips touched my cheeks, I realised how much she trusts me. That very moment, I promised to her that I will be the best man she would meet in her life.<br />
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As she had kissed me last night, I decided to take her for our first walk. To make the moment last forever, I bought her a beautiful gown and a beautiful pair of shoes. When I gifted the dress, her eyes lit up with excitement. She hugged me as if I had given her the most expensive gift ever.<br />
<br />
She dolled herself with matching Bijouterie. She looked magnificent in royal blue gown which covered her from head to toe. As she made her way towards me, my heart bounced back thousand times within a second. I sat on my knees to welcome her. She came forward like a princess and kissed my right cheek and shouted in my ear, “Thank you so much Daddy.” I hugged her tight and tears rolled down from my eyes.<br />
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When I carried her in my arms, she braces my neck with her tiny hands. And we were finally out to experience our first ever walk together.<br />
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<img alt="Sand, Footsteps, Footprints, Beach, Coast, Walk, Ocean" height="213" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/05/15/14/57/sand-768783_960_720.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-69299173316294232542016-03-28T00:18:00.001-07:002016-03-28T00:20:04.451-07:00Happy Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I often come across people who are least interested in celebrating their birthdays or act like crazies on this day. Not because they do not love to celebrate their existence or they are too frugal to celebrate it but because they are no longer a kid. As if they celebrated their birthday when they were kids who used to do nothing but loo on their parent’s bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I find this reason a bit absurd. I mean, how anyone can stop celebrating their birthday just because they have aged. So, one day I decided to ask few people about it. Well, the answers differed according to their age but there was one statement which was common among them. The statement was, “Why to celebrate your existence on a particular day. One should celebrate their existence every day. What is so special about this day?” Oh, wow, this was something worth applauding for. Yes, I would have celebrated my existence everyday if I have had enough money to do so. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All was fine, till I noticed this sentence, “What is so special about this day?” Oh, yes, there is nothing special about this day because it isn’t the day on which you proposed a girl for the first time? It isn’t the day on which you went on your first date? It isn’t the day on which your so called first anniversary with your first girlfriend/boyfriend happens? It isn’t the day on which you got a medal or something? None of these things happened on this day. So, it isn’t special. Right!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well, lovely people out there, a lot happened on this particular day and there exists myriad reasons to celebrate it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On this day, you were born clad with your mom’s blood. The blood covered you from head to toe, when you were naked. Doesn’t this make the day special? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On this day, you cried for the first time. Your family giggled while you were crying. Doesn’t this make the day special?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> On this day, you made a woman, a Mother. A moment, every girl in this universe waits for. Doesn’t this make the day special? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On this day, you saw your parents for the first time. Your Grand Ma said, you resemble your mother and your father actually felt offended about it. Doesn’t this make the day special?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> On this day, you witnessed this world for the first time and you became the reason for increase in population of this world. Doesn’t this make it special? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If all these things don’t make this day special, I wonder what does. Just because you don’t remember these moments, it doesn’t mean that these moments didn’t happen. A lot happened on this day which you still are not aware of. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some of the people wouldn’t be there on your next birthday. So, why do you want to miss a chance to celebrate this day along with your loved ones? Go crazy this birthday. Act like a weirdo, gift candies as used to do in nursery class, get wet with happiness and let other soak in your ocean of happiness. Just do it. You never know, whether you would really get a chance to do it next year or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Birthday Cake, Cake, Birthday, Cupcakes, Candles, Party" height="265" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2014/06/30/11/40/birthday-cake-380178_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-44290297184889615962016-03-21T23:16:00.000-07:002016-03-21T23:19:18.166-07:00Under the blanket<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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*Under the blanket*<br />
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Each day, I long for the night just to be with her. Under
the blanket, I enter a place where I surrender myself to her, confessing my
love for her. Often, she doesn’t let me sleep. How would she? After all, that
is the place where we finally acknowledge each other after a long hectic day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes. There exists altogether a new world under the blanket.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Amid the walls of a silent room, we exchange words with each
other. Her words slowly engulfs through my mind to my heart, making me see the impossible
happening right in front of my eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I move myself closer to her, I finally see the real me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I close my eyes and let her enter inside me, she gulps
every inch of negativity, making me pukka that I have ever been. With her
aroma, I sense the grounds of optimism lay ahead. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I put my feet onto the path, I finally see my destination,
far but clear.<br />
<br />
I fight back throwing irrational
thoughts at her, refusing to accept what she has shown me. But she stands like
an austere woman who refuses to give up. Then, she entwines her hand in mine,
taking me to another world. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I walk with her, I realise, this path would be difficult
but not impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, I surround her around my arms, accepting her for
forever. I fall asleep peacefully. Yes, the moment I accept her, I see the
divine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next morning, when I wake up, I find her nowhere but in
my heart. She makes it beat faster than ever. As I move out to experience the
sun above, I know, she would be my ray of hope for the rest of the day. Then, I
spend another day working harder, waiting for another night under the blanket.<o:p></o:p></div>
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People often call <i>her</i> ‘Dreams’ but I call <i>her</i>
my ‘Life’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img alt="Woman, Back, Blanket, Walking, Outdoors, Nature, Blonde" height="213" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/11/07/11/52/woman-1031586_960_720.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Image courtesy: Pixabay.com<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-47145929738348600552016-03-11T21:48:00.002-08:002016-03-11T21:48:51.055-08:00Can You?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><br />Beat. Beat. <div>
His heart. My heart.</div>
<div>
At same place. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Hear. Hear.</div>
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With your ears. </div>
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Can you tell us our religion by our heartbeats?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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No! You Can’t. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Touch. Touch. </div>
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His Skin. My Skin. </div>
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By your hands. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Color. Color. </div>
<div>
Fair. Dusky. </div>
<div>
Can you tell us our religion by perceiving our skin tone? </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
No! You Can’t. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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See. See.</div>
<div>
Through our eyes, this beautiful world. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Same. Same. </div>
<div>
Isn’t the world same? </div>
<div>
Can you tell us, our religion by watching this world through our eyes? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, You Can’t. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Flow. Flow. </div>
<div>
His veins. My veins. </div>
<div>
the red blood. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Mix. Mix. </div>
<div>
Mix our blood.</div>
<div>
Can you tell us, to which religion this hybrid blood belong?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, you Can’t. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rain. Rain. </div>
<div>
His wet body. My wet Body. </div>
<div>
Soaked in water. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Drop. Drop. </div>
<div>
Yes, we felt the same water drops.</div>
<div>
Can you tell me, Which religion made these water drops?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No! You Can’t. </div>
<div>
Name. Name. </div>
<div>
His surname. My Surname. </div>
<div>
Combine both. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Read. Read. </div>
<div>
Tell us, to which religion we belong? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yes. Now, you can.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Judge. Judge. </div>
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Hindu. Muslim. Christian. Sikh. </div>
<div>
Tag us with these division. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Fill. Fill. Fill our mind with discrimination. </div>
<div>
Will you succeed? </div>
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<br /></div>
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No, you won’t. </div>
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We are no fool, we are youth. </div>
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We belong to humanity. </div>
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Say it a religion, name it a God. </div>
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Tag with whatever name you want,</div>
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it won’t affect us, as we are attached with an invincible chord. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-42050221719771428582016-03-08T20:37:00.001-08:002016-03-08T20:39:11.042-08:00Be my Poetry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let me feel what other's don't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let my thoughts unite with your soul.<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let me say the unsaid. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let my ink spread Indelible marks on your mind.<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let me defile you without even touching your body. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let me make you live till eternity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be my poetry, let me feel what other's don't.</span></div>
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<img alt="Rose, Book, Poetry, White, Pink, Tender, Memory" height="224" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/05/12/16/01/rose-764267_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-45770109606983780272016-03-08T02:49:00.000-08:002016-03-08T02:49:33.702-08:00कुमकुम<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">टीका, हाँ ये माथे पे लगा लाल टीका ही तो है, मेरी पहचान| लोग इसे कुमकुम कहते है और ये एक औरत के भाग्य में उसके जन्म के साथ ही लिख के आता<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"> है| जब ये दो शब्द मिल जाते है, तो ये कुमकुम भाग्य कहलाता है|</span></span></div>
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रोज़ सुबह जब आईने में खुद को देखती हूँ, तो असमंजस में पड़ जाती हूँ| सोचती हूँ क्या इस लाल टीके जितना ही ख्वाब देखा था मैने अपने लिए| याद आता है वो दिन, जब पूरी दुनिया को अपनी मुटठी में करने की चाह रखती थी मैं, जब मैं अपनी एक अलग पहचान बनाना चाहती थी| और अब देखो, क्या है मेरा वजूद? सिर्फ इस लाल टीके की गोलाई जितना | हाँ, आज मैं किसी की बहु हूँ, किसी की पत्नी और दो पायरे प्यारे बच्चों की माँ भी हूँ| अब तो मेरा नाम भी कोई नहीं जानना चाहता, सिर्फ सरनेम से ही परख लेते है मुझे| सच, आसमान की तरह, किस्मत भी कितने रंग बदलती है|</div>
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किसी को मेरे आँखों में बसे अधूरे ख्वाब नहीं दिखते, न ही किसी को मेरे आंसुओं में भरे दर्द जानने की चाह है| इसलिए आँखों में काजल और होंठो में लाली लगाकर अपने अस्तित्व को और दबा लेती हूँ, ताकि में खुद ही खुदको न पहचान सकूं|</div>
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परदे के पीछे से जब भी बाहरी दुनिया को देखती हूँ, तो लगता है आज, इसी वक़्त सारी बेड़ियाँ तोड़ कर बाहरी दुनिया में शरीक हो जाऊं, और जो टूटे हुए सपने है उन्हें बुन लूं|</div>
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जैसे ही मेरे कदम आगे बढ़ते है, मुझे बहुत कुछ रोक लेता है| हाँ, मेरे ससुर की ‘खांसी’ मुझे रोक लेती है, मेरे पति का का ‘प्यार’ मुझे रोक लेता है, मेरे बच्चों का ‘माँ’ बुलाना मुझे रोक लेता है| सोचती हूँ, इनसे बिछड़ के अगर पहचान बना भी ली, तो क्या मिलेगा मुझे? शायद सिर्फ अकेलापन | आखिर, ऊंचाई में इन्सान अकेले ही तो खड़ा होता है|</div>
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बस फिर क्या, अपना बढ़ा हुआ कदम वापस से अन्दर लेती हूँ| खिड़की, दरवाजे बंद करती हूँ और सोचती हूँ, परदे के पीछे से बाहरी दुनिया को देखना ही बेहतर है| मैं परदे के इस पार की दुनिया में ही ठीक हूँ, आखिर इस आशियाने को मैंने अपने दिल के तारों से बुना है|</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-22736964457932485792016-03-03T20:56:00.001-08:002016-03-03T21:27:40.656-08:00अधूरी कहानी<p dir="ltr">प्रेम की परकाष्ठा नहीं चाहिए थी हमें । महानता भी नहीं । हम तो छोटे लोग हैं। छोटे ख्व़ाब , छोटी ख़ुशियाँ , छोटी दुनिया । हमें भी बस अपनी एक छोटी सी दुनिया चाहिए थी । एक जहाँ , जहाँ हम सुकून से अपनी ज़िन्दगी बिताएं ।<br>
हमारा प्रेम भी ऐसा कोई ख़ास नहीं था । हीर रांझा , लैला मजनूँ या रोमियो जूलिएट जैसी तो कोई बात नहीं थी हममें । हमने तो बस मोहब्बत की थी । सच्ची मोहब्बत। महानता जैसे शब्दों के चकल्लस से तो हम दूर ही रहना चाहते । हाँ , कुछ ऐसा रिश्ता था जैसे कलम का स्याही से , सागर का मछली से, बादल का बूंदों से जिसमें दूसरे के बगैर जीवन संभव तो था पर उसके कोई मायने नहीं थे । नितांत बेमानी सा जीवन।<br>
कुछ 2 साल पहले मिले थे हम। जब उसे पहली बार देखा तो हवा नहीं चली थी , ना तो मेरे बाल ही अचानक उड़ने लगे थे , ना मन गुनगुनाया था ना ही गिटार बजे थे बस दिल धड़का था , थोड़ा तेज़ , एक सिरहन सी दौड़ गयी थी ज़िस्म में । हर मुलाक़ात के बाद धड़कन बढ़ती गयी । एक एहसास था ,एक मीठा सा दर्द जिसके बारे में अक्सर पढ़ा सुना तो था पर हमेशा अतिशोय्क्ति सा लगता था । पर आज मैं भी इसे महसूस कर रही थी । <br>
नहीं , ये पहली नज़र का प्यार नहीं था । हमनें इसे हर घड़ी जिया था । ये कोई अचानक से उठने वाला सैलाब नहीं था , पर एक दरिया था जिसमें हम डूबे थे हर पल ।<br>
पर प्यार आसान कब रहा है ? काटों के बिस्तर से तो आप एक बार बिना चोट खाए निकल भी सकते हैं पर प्यार से ? सवाल ही नहीं उठता ।<br>
हमारा अंतर्जातीय प्रेम हमारे समाज , हमारे गाँव, <br>
हमारे परिवार की इच्छा ही नहीं , बल्कि संस्कारों के भी खिलाफ़ था । हमें हर 'तरीके' से समझाने के बाद भी जब हम नहीं माने , तो हमें जिंदा ज़मीन में दफना दिया गया । <br>
हमारा प्रेम इतना विशाल था कि इस श्रृष्टि में समा ही नहीं पाया । माना लोगों ने हमें नहीं अपनाया पर हमें इसका ग़म नहीं है , क्योंकि वो कभी हमारे प्रेम की गहनता को समझ ही नहीं पाए । वो नहीं समझ पाए की प्रीत को बांटना संभव नहीं ।<br>
ख़ैर , हम अपनी छोटी सी दुनिया में खुश हैं । यहाँ ना कोई ज़ात है ना भेद भाव । सुकून है यहाँ की हर गली में । शायद लोग इसे जन्नत कहते हैं पर हमारे लिए तो यह हमारा छोटा सा प्यार का आशियाँ है ।<br><br></p>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxx1uu2rzw3UuSo6-TM4Xh_foMi-wp_EB9CAQSImHRFucIn75o_LyhoQ6t4w7tbQmYn7sPiK-179-O3k3vaaKFgeG8bWF64Q9s18SFRpGvYW9i55IL_RnhcgWERANnQ1OGExujz6rxLMm/s1600/Screenshot_2016-03-04-10-55-55_1457069181103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxx1uu2rzw3UuSo6-TM4Xh_foMi-wp_EB9CAQSImHRFucIn75o_LyhoQ6t4w7tbQmYn7sPiK-179-O3k3vaaKFgeG8bWF64Q9s18SFRpGvYW9i55IL_RnhcgWERANnQ1OGExujz6rxLMm/s640/Screenshot_2016-03-04-10-55-55_1457069181103.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-14240543034071281372016-03-03T04:05:00.000-08:002016-03-03T04:05:02.975-08:00Distant Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> It’s been ages since I last met her. But I remember her vividly; her brown skin, soft texture, her smell and her never ending love. Her memories are all I have. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We are so far from each other but our soul is too close. I have never touched her body but her soul is embodied with mine. Yes, we have individual hearts but rhythms of beats are same. Yes, we don’t meet often but she is the one who comes in my dream every night. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Being in a long distance relationship is not an easy task; one goes through a lot of hurdles to maintain it. Amidst doubts, all I have is trust bestowed on her. Albeit I trust her very much, but sometimes, I become a possessive lover. Isn't it obvious, when you have such a beautiful lover who is so far away from you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes, I think, What if she forgets me? What if she finds someone better? And although , I never utter a word about my insecurities but she somehow understands and gets hurt. I don’t know how , but I think telepathy works in our case . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To show her anger, she hurts herself, sometimes, she tear herself apart and sometimes, she remains hungry for days and turns herself weak and dry. And then I howl with pain and weep my heart out to her and that is when it rains. I do it because I know my tears have the power to heal her. She, like a mad and insecure lover, soaks my tears and takes every inch of my pain inside her. And when she gets wet, she smells marvellous; her aroma fills the entire universe with magic and next morning, she blushes hard, making everyone envious of her beauty and then I smile brightly with pride, that she belongs to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There are times, when I adore her while she is asleep from distance away. I know she is afraid of darkness that is why I lit all the lights of my home, so she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Yes, she looks alluring at night. When she sleeps in peace, I feel pleasure in guarding her and protecting her from the evils of this world and sometimes, when she catches me looking at her. She smiles like a little girl who waits for her prince charming and she knows one day her prince charming will arrive and that would be the day, when they will be together till eternity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So far yet so close </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">lustful yet so pure<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> too far to be with each other </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but our love is hard to wither<br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">we are two ends of this universe</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I am the Sky and she is the Earth.</span></div>
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<img alt="Heart, Love, Romance, Valentine, Romantic" height="213" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2015/03/30/20/33/heart-700141_960_720.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-8542710566011880752016-02-29T03:56:00.001-08:002016-02-29T03:56:32.139-08:00Dance In The Rain<p dir="ltr">And I dance in the rain , allowing the water fix my spirit.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance , eradicating the toxins you marked on my existence.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance , vitiating the pain you left on my anima.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance as the raindrops exterminate your memories out of me.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance embracing the real , old me sans you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance as I dethrone you entirely from my life.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance welcoming back myself.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I dance in the rain as I disremember you.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-38169958976017287942016-02-19T09:07:00.001-08:002016-02-21T21:31:58.099-08:00Cycle<p dir="ltr">" Mommy" he said seriously , "I want to marry Shrishti". </p>
<p dir="ltr">" But why Arjun ? " I asked.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Because she has got a bee-yoo-tiful cycle !" he gushed. I smiled as I saw my four year old son who was experiencing first pangs of unrequited love - for the brand new tricycle of our neighbour's daughter.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He had pushed his last cycle down a slope to see if it could fly and the previous one was too old fashioned to ride for Rockstar Arjun.</p>
<p dir="ltr">A couple of days later , I noticed Arjun sliding out of the house with something hidden behind his back. When questioned ,he held out a slightly bulky, somewhat a pink envelope, with crooked red hearts and 'Simran' emblazoned on top.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Intrigued, I opened the letter and drew out a hand made card. It bore some more crooked hearts and the legend , "Dear Simran, I love you very very much. You are a Super Girl !". Inside it was ridden " Please will you let me ride your cycle? " Arjun had enclosed a small pearl too as a token of his love . He for sure , didn't want to leave any stone unturned.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Don't tell Shrishti !" he pleaded. I mocked him saying , "Oh my god Arjun ! Are you a  Casanova? Are you double dating ? Okay . Fine . I won't tell Shrishti only if you wait till your father comes. I want to show this card to him too. It is lovely. " </p>
<p dir="ltr">"What ? No Mommy. I can't even wait a second. Please try to understand . I need to go now or it will be too late ."It meant that it would get too dark soon and hence, chances of a ride too dim.</p>
<p dir="ltr">He trotted off with his first love letter - a bounce in his step and hope in his heart. But alas ! The course of true love never did run smooth. The damsel had the last word. Soon came the reply with a card, crooked hearts and all. With "Arjun I love you too !"  after thanking him for calling her a Super Girl, she wrote - "Repair your cycle soon. Then we both can go cycling together."</p>
<p dir="ltr">Since his old cycle was beyond salvage, we were treated to sights of Arjun literally being taken for a ride behind the Simran's petite two seated scooter.</p>
<p dir="ltr">That was Twenty six years and three cycles ago. I smiled again as Simran asked why I am smiling all by myself. Telling her to wait as a surprise awaits her , I went to the store room . She looked at me , still puzzled, as I came back holding a small box. The looks changed from that of puzzled to amused. "What is this , Mom ?" She asked.</p>
<p dir="ltr">"Tada ! Look for yourself. " I chuckled. She laughed shyly as she held that same love letter from Twenty Six Years ago with crooked red little hearts...<br>
That couple on the  scooter 26 years back is all married now and we all laugh as their three year old son runs out with a love letter ..<br></p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-13061190749529235042016-02-16T20:39:00.003-08:002016-02-16T20:41:19.173-08:00Bleeding Flower<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">*Bleeding Flower*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am the bleeding flower<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />I am the one with scars<br />deep and deep they are.<br />Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</span></span></div>
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I screech with pain<br />
as blood flows out of my body.<br />
Making me impure and unholy<br />
isn’t it a natural shower?<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
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I turn impatient and crazy<br />
because it’s that time of the month.<br />
No, it is because; your unnecessary myths<br />
make me a cunt.<br />
Let me stay in a bower.<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
Don’t touch the pickle<br />
it will perish or turn red<br />
don’t roam here and there<br />
take a corner shade.<br />
These warnings leave deep scars.<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
You say I am timid and weak<br />
can you bleed every month and<br />
still not shriek?<br />
I am the one with immense power.<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
I am forbidden to go to temple,<br />
mosque and church.<br />
Is this a good thing or a monthly curse?<br />
Hasn’t god himself made me this kind of flower?<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
I am not ashamed of who I am,<br />
I will play hard and walk on the ramp.<br />
This is not a disease but a<br />
process of days and hours.<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em;">
I am the carnation<br />
I am the source of each generation,<br />
don’t judge me by my appearance<br />
I am the reason for your existence.<br />
I am not a mere woman<br />
I am the one who carry myriad avatars.<br />
Yes, I am the bleeding flower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img alt="Bleeding Heart, Water Reflection, Flowers, Pink" height="240" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2016/01/08/18/12/bleeding-heart-1128836_960_720.jpg" width="320" /></div>
</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-60601317148691061142016-02-16T03:17:00.001-08:002016-02-16T03:18:19.774-08:00I WILL NOT BUCKLE <p dir="ltr">I did not like him. To introduce him to my friends was an absolute 'no -no'. Since we were brothers , I was invariably compared to him in some way or the other. But I could not fathom how people compared me with him. ''I'' who was so stylish , rich and polished was compared to a person for whom these qualities were alien. People must be out of their minds. I was surprised when he, my elder brother , Varun expressed his desire to visit me. I thought he must need something from me.<br>
When I reached the Railway Station , train had just arrived. The halt was very short. I saw him getting down , vigorously waving. We shook hands but I immediately snatched mine away. The railway platform was jam packed. I moved along with the wave of people.<br>
Suddenly, I too was pushed against the side of the train. I just could not breathe.<br>
I saw a train pass. What was happening ? I realized I had fallen down. I wanted to get up. How humiliating to fall in front of so many people. My back was resting against the platform and my legs were on the rail tracks. I wanted to move my legs but couldn't . The next thing I saw that my legs were lying at a distance away from my body.<br>
We were in a car. I protested,'' Oh ! What was happening around me ? '' I was feeling scared. I curled my fingers around my brother's mighty palms and held him with all the strength I could muster and in his same characteristic style which I so much disliked , he roared , '' He had held my hand tightly! He is still alive. ''<br>
Was I dead ? I must have been hallucinating .<br>
Varun put his palms on my chest and started pushing me up and down , shouting '' I will kill you if you give in. Fight , don't give up! You are like me my brother , fighter to the core. Breathe , breathe hard ''. I followed his commands almost like I used to do when he was standing outside the boxing ring and exhort me to get up and fight once again.<br>
I felt severe pain in my legs and cried out. I could hear some voices , some crying and some praying. I could hear so many voices telling me to do different things. I don't know why my wife Geetika was crying but she kept on asking Varun to instruct me further. I decided I will only listen to my brother's voice.<br>
I am in my full senses now. Varun is sitting quietly , holding my hand. I was told that three months have passed since the accident occurred. I was declared 'brought in dead ' but the doctors kept trying to revive me because my brother refused to give up and wouldn't let them go. It was almost an hour when I started breathing. Doctors thought I would become a vegetable because my brain was without oxygen for one full hour. Varun proved them wrong again. I responded to his voice. I was proud of him for being so authoritative. They also told me that Varun did not go home or move away from my side as I would not let go of his hand.<br>
It took me another four months to learn to walk on my artificial legs.<br>
Varun left today. Geetika and I went to bid good bye to him. He shook my hand ,'' You are a good fighter , I am proud of you. '' I smiled. My heart was too full to say anything to him. 'I love you for teaching me to keep faith'' Geetika said . He boarded the train and waved till we could see him no more.<br>
For the first time I realised that I couldn't have given him anything. He had it all and perhaps I wouldn't have been who I am today had he not taught me to face trouble fairly and squarely , and not buckle.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmAx-tFwooVozsoSdbsHZZkuvGLDJgDhGY7xrRA0bYeUswIXetugojHAoaBYURHtMSIj2gGCj74boYlCq89YrmXA-rkHYo8-lRXjpbyo9-50PprCn5wXX3fi-eq9nflkV_4pNfofXAaOR/s1600/man-399973_640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmAx-tFwooVozsoSdbsHZZkuvGLDJgDhGY7xrRA0bYeUswIXetugojHAoaBYURHtMSIj2gGCj74boYlCq89YrmXA-rkHYo8-lRXjpbyo9-50PprCn5wXX3fi-eq9nflkV_4pNfofXAaOR/s640/man-399973_640.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-82958652008341875732016-02-13T10:34:00.001-08:002016-02-13T10:48:40.006-08:00Valentine <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222;">Loving her was the most difficult part of my life.
I never looked her that way. I underestimated her, discouraged her, treated her like a slave.She never fought back. Sometimes, she did oppose but I shut her. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">She does a lot for me, but I never appreciated her. I couldn't
see the reality.She stood by me.She was always there for me. I laughed, she laughed. I cried, she cried. I
suffered, she suffered. I won, she won. She experienced everything along with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">She was too scared to tell me anything. But, one day, she gathered the
courage to tell me about her dream. I laughed hard at her dream of becoming a
writer. It wasn't, she wrote bad or she wasn't capable of doing better. I
guess, I was too frugal to reward her. I always thought being an engineer
or doctor was way better than becoming a writer. That was the only reason, I
never encouraged her to pursue her dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt;">She did what I said. She pursued, what I decided for her. She did
everything for me.But, for me she remained a looser. I hated her,
considered her nothing but a victim. I </span><span style="font-size: 12.6667px;">sympathized</span><span style="font-size: 9.5pt;"> her but never loved her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">She continued writing in leisure. I read every article of her. One day,
she wrote so well that I couldn't stop smiling. Yes, that very moment, I fell
for her writing and finally for her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 9.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<div style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I never admitted my feelings, but isn't valentine a perfect occasion to acknowledge my feelings. I proposed her last valentine.<br />.</span></div>
<div style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I love you. I love you for what you are." I said looking at the mirror.</span></div>
<div style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and the girl from the other side of the mirror smiled back.</span></div>
<div style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #141823; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This valentine is the first anniversary of our love. Hope it grows more and more with time.</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02457886177909595106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-11906845961191889772016-02-10T08:22:00.003-08:002016-02-10T08:23:06.717-08:00Yes.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I am weird and it is alright.<br />
Because it is good to be myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I pray daily.<br />
Because being alive is a blessing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I smile at kids in the street .<br />
Because it is good to spread happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I love sitting alone in a café.<br />
Because it is good to observe people and inscribe a story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I love capturing random people.<br />
Because it is good to fill your gallery with many lives.<br />
<br />
Yes. I don’t go late night parties.<br />
Because it is good to spend time with myself under the dark sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I am not the one who carries make up inside her bag.<br />
Because it is good to create space for a novel and a diary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I love to walk barefoot on lush turf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because feeling the nature is a bliss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I don’t spend much on hangouts.<br />
Because it is good to save money for books.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I know what I am making is not good enough.<br />
But it is good to be creative.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I am not a writer yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
But it is good sprinkle on your paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes. I am weird and it is alright.<br />
Because it is good to be myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Woman, Happiness, Sunrise, Silhouette, Dress, Beach" height="266" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2014/12/16/22/25/woman-570883_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pic Credit: Pixabay.com</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-53000113914097624442016-02-09T22:05:00.004-08:002016-02-09T22:32:29.174-08:00And I smiled...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her tangled
beautiful hair, her blue eyes amazed me how the blue sky and deep blue sea has
blended altogether for me to just dive into her love, to realize how badly I
wanted her in my life, the depth in her eyes communicates intensely, her thick
eyelashes reminded me of a citadel , build to protect the realm of beauty. Every
muscle in her face was tender, passionate, and loving. Her face was radiant and
glowed up like gold when million rays of sun entered gently into her room. Her
pink lips were so gentle and soft that even king of flowers rose felt complex.
My whole world could come to an end for her one smile. When I saw her two years
back, her smile encrypted deep in my heart and I promised myself I will keep her smile forever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her presence
around me makes me a weary soldier, a passionate lover whose religion is love,
a protective father whose universe circles around her, a loving mother who has
surrendered her life for her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, after a
year when I see her in those formaldehyde stinking green clothes I feel so
helpless. I t takes a second to ruin your world. Yes, this is the day when doctor is attempting the surgery for her lung transplantation. The roughness in doctor’s voice hints me
the most horrible things which I can never imagine. I can do nothing, but request from doctor to save
my 3 year daughter. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span lang="EN-US">She is all I have desired; she is the only treasure I Possess. When I see her lying unconsciously </span>on the bed with so many syringes and bottles, cascade of tears continuously roll down to my cheeks. Her velvet skin is pierced with many needles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They have dragged me outside the operation theatre and I am left with nothing but hope to see her alive. During two hours operation, all I did was praying and when I was almost dead with fear, the smile on doctor's
face brought back the ray of hope <i>and</i> <i>I smiled..</i><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Baby, Portrait, Child, Cute, Happy, Infant, Girl, Young" height="265" src="https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2016/01/20/13/08/baby-1151524_960_720.jpg" width="400" /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pic Courtesy: Pixabay.com</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span lang="EN-US">~~Sonal Jain</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02457886177909595106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-48386161918701321622016-02-04T20:40:00.001-08:002016-02-04T20:41:48.309-08:00Once Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lub-Dub,
Lub-Dub, they were high like tides. There was exasperation in my heart, and a
sense of displeasure. Once again, he crushed my soul into pieces making me
surrender against his strength. I found my audacious approach flew away at his
arrival, puny within his grab and no way to love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After hundred
attempts of refusal he strangled me against the bed and rode over me like my
existence is to serve him every day. He ruled my body like his realm and again
his heroism won against my womanhood. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I tried to free
myself from his grip but sooner there was no echo of struggle, and sweat rolled
down from the side of the head, my strength was in pule, my whole body was in
agony. My strength had broken down like
the broken pieces of mirror, failed to recollect. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He smiled at me
with sagacity which felt like a dagger plunging into my heart hundred times. As
he freed me from his clutches, he stood smiling assuring me that I have to
endure it every day as if my body is barely alive to celebrate his valor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRmGYHG4g13iiAMu2uvZWI6rE7tZI-zvhyphenhyphenXKPQPb2Qq8FezDa3dD6MMe7g0saTgZN0B3alf4d-ea_7NHAIGN6LFdfSZGBzJV7iVxeHlgpHJoRiVlbE0QHTHWh9OPS6Fxnp8xcAAKG6iZ-/s1600/pillow-992592_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRmGYHG4g13iiAMu2uvZWI6rE7tZI-zvhyphenhyphenXKPQPb2Qq8FezDa3dD6MMe7g0saTgZN0B3alf4d-ea_7NHAIGN6LFdfSZGBzJV7iVxeHlgpHJoRiVlbE0QHTHWh9OPS6Fxnp8xcAAKG6iZ-/s320/pillow-992592_1920.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My enervating
body tried to reconcile all his strength with a determination to win again and
in anger I shouted Bhai!! I hate you……and once again, I lost a pillow fight
with my brother.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">~~Sonal</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pic Credit- Pixabay.com</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02457886177909595106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-89830083429522372332016-02-03T02:21:00.001-08:002016-02-03T02:38:38.204-08:00Happiness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You really don't drink or smoke ?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Yeah. I find these things suffocating. And what's the point of spending so much on something which isn't even good for health. What makes you consume them?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Well, everyone have their own reasons but for me it is happiness. When the bitter alcohol, runs down my throat, I feel alive ."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Strange! How can you feel happy in consuming something that kills you?" "Okay. So, what is your idea of happiness? "</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Forget it. I don't want to discuss. You will get bored."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I won't."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I find happiness in experiencing life. Exploring it. Feeling it's warmth in every moment. Discovering people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When, I was a kid, I found happiness in listening bed time stories from Granny. As I grew up, it changed to playing cricket with my dad. At 15, I felt happy when someone gifted me the books I always wanted to read which I still love. At 18, it was when daddy gifted me the bike. At 20, it was when I looked at my crush. Her laughs, mischievous smiles filled me with a sense of happiness. At 22, it was when I graduated from college. I was overwhelmed to see my parents proud because of me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I find happiness in my work. I love what I do, Singing. In upcoming years, I want to help unprivileged children. I want to help them with money, with my thoughts, with my songs. That would be my idea of happiness. Marrying the woman I love and making her feel special will be my idea of happiness. Spending a star studded night, with my children watching the beautiful galaxies will make me happy. On a winter dusk, watching the snow falling on the mountains with my wife wrapped in a quilt ; that will be fascinating. Reciting poems and stories to my grandchildren will make me happy. <u>Sharing</u> my experience with my children who are eager to hear what I say. Don't you think that will be amazing ?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Living a simple yet contented life, is my idea of happiness. I may sound old school to you, but that is how I define happiness."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTz1KEupJNHtJLrDcikOrxfbMWuC0G2eGgpDyZ7QHiVnl-Rrjm4h2MMdrkcEFF-XegyKUmtQFrPfsBV3Uleeuh0Mf93H2ifNMrDHGGUiswRtUhRFx-9K6-8HwvWflgYRdocGk9HBxlYGd/s1600/youth-570881_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKTz1KEupJNHtJLrDcikOrxfbMWuC0G2eGgpDyZ7QHiVnl-Rrjm4h2MMdrkcEFF-XegyKUmtQFrPfsBV3Uleeuh0Mf93H2ifNMrDHGGUiswRtUhRFx-9K6-8HwvWflgYRdocGk9HBxlYGd/s320/youth-570881_1920.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-53005889554833086202016-01-29T00:10:00.001-08:002016-02-16T20:15:10.239-08:00माँ<p dir="ltr">आज फिर कहानी की जिद की थी उसने ।<br>
आज फिर वही सवाल लगे थे रिसने ।<br>
सुला दिया था उसे आज भी डपटकर।<br>
नजरें चुरा, बुझा दी थी बत्ती झटक कर।।<br>
हर शाम मासूम नजरें ढूँढा करती थी जिन्हें,<br>
खुद ही तो वृद्धाश्रम छोड़कर आया था मैं उन्हें ।<br>
किंकर्तव्यमूढ था, पत्नी और माँ में किसे चुनता?<br>
हार गई थी उस दिन माँ की ममता ।</p>
<p dir="ltr">'कल माँ से मिलने जाऊँगा ' कहा था पत्नी से मैंने।<br>
सहम गया था देख उन्हें निष्ठुरता का जामा पहने ।।<br>
लफ्ज़ों से तो नहीं ,पर बहुत कुछ कह गईं थी वो आँखे।<br>
अवहेलना कर जिनकी, चल पड़ा था पास मैं माँ के।<br>
एक साड़ी निकाल दी थी माँ के लिए श्रीमती जी ने,<br>
मना कर दिया था जिसे लेने से कामवाली ने।<br>
बचपन में एक पल भी जिसके बिन मन न था रमता,<br>
तैर गईं फिर वही पथराई आँखें जिनमें झलकती थी ममता।<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">घुसते ही आश्रम में,रुक गई थी नज़र वहाँ,<br>
ममता की वो मूर्त बैठी थी जहाँ ।<br>
नींद से जैसे जागी वह चरणों पर स्पर्श से।<br>
खिल गईं थी बाँछे उसकी , मुझको यूँ देखकर ।।<br>
एक मुस्कान तैर गई थी उसके शुष्क अधरों पर,<br>
आँखें डबडबा गईं मेरी देख ज़ख्म उन कर कमलों पर।<br>
प्यार से हाथ फेर ,पास बैठा लिया था अपने,<br>
लजा गया था चूरकर के यूँ उसके सपने।</p>
<p dir="ltr">जिसकी दुआओं में सिर्फ़ नाम था मेरा,<br>
दवाएँ न जाने कब उन पर पड़ गईं भारी।<br>
चलना सीखा था पकड़कर आँचल जिसका,<br>
कैसे उसे छोड़ आया दूजी नगरी ।<br>
आज भी अपनी गोद में सिर रख लिया था माँ नें ,<br>
माथा सहलाते हुए शायद भूल गई वो ताने।<br>
अनायास ही बोल पड़ा 'माँ! चलो घर',<br>
अश्रु धाराएँ रही थी आँखों से झर।<br>
एक ठन्ड़ी आह छोड़, शान्त हो गई वह।<br>
विक्षिप्त सा देखता,गया सन्न मैं रह,<br>
वह पथराई आँखें जिनमें अब भी झलक रही थी <u>ममता</u>।</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28GND4sNA5h9cGjVci9jVRvynI44c_kgQR3E4K1JnrdmAKAGf9U8H31afiQGGXiOgKlAzu9UEZjZjcTCDSDiPHZuuFeFK1S5jSBxhf8niGtGWtYr_I9qSIvRcAl8S-l4ppC4or_zIqh8e/s1600/Screenshot_2016-01-29-13-57-29_1454056214660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28GND4sNA5h9cGjVci9jVRvynI44c_kgQR3E4K1JnrdmAKAGf9U8H31afiQGGXiOgKlAzu9UEZjZjcTCDSDiPHZuuFeFK1S5jSBxhf8niGtGWtYr_I9qSIvRcAl8S-l4ppC4or_zIqh8e/s640/Screenshot_2016-01-29-13-57-29_1454056214660.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10875431602549853166noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8124036473780929268.post-81076038857588506012016-01-28T23:44:00.000-08:002016-01-28T23:47:01.499-08:00Little did I know<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This article is dedicated to Aruna Shanbaug:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I came to Mumbai, the city of dreams, 42 years ago to endeavor my life and achieve my dreams but little did I know was soon, very soon, I will become the national sensation, A rape victim. Believe me, this was not what I wanted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All I wanted was to cure the uncured, feed the hungry and to hear the twinkling sound of a newborn baby. I wanted to be remembered by my patients in their prayers but little did I know was, the candles will be lit in my name, as a Rape Victim.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I lived for 66 years but spend an era of my life almost dead for 42 years. Yes, almost dead or almost lived, because for me it was the same, in a vegetative state. I knew life was tough and I would too get sick but little did I knew was, I will be bedridden for almost 42 years and won’t even get the chance to get up and walk again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He raped me in a basement room of the hospital, where i wove my dreams. He shook my soul and my body from head to toe around the walls of the silent room. He strangled me with a dog chain and dragged me to hell, leaving my body almost alive and my soul dead. I knew he won’t spare me any mercy but little did I know was that I won’t be able to fight back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My would- be-husband cried seeing me lying numb, bedridden. He even kept meeting me for years, as I was his love. I wanted to hug him and tell him how much I needed him. I knew it hurts him a lot to see me like this. I knew he will love me till his death but little did I know was, soon he would move on and get married and I won’t see him any longer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The people moved, patients and nurses changed, anything remained constant was me, in the same bed. I could see nurses feeding me and providing me endless care but I never wanted to be the one who needed someone to feed her. I knew, I was in critical condition but little did I know was that I would never able to get cure and die in such a bizarre manner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I heard that monster has been detained and had been jailed for what he did to me. The court did not punish him with death because I was still alive. Alive, really alive, they said. I wish I could tell them what it felt to be alive like that. I knew he would be punished but little did I know was I have been born in a country where justice is rare and unseen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today, when I die in the eyes of the world, I feel free from the pain which I endured for 42 years. I will live in the other world, if it exists. I will ask why this happened to me to god, if there is one. I knew I'll be dead one day but little did I know was I will wait for it day and night throughout my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwWhZG89zwz5WzOaeTKecgbqeQl-G8jrKFtOLlrEy_ISlHc3uRLC-SkiL8yp_qHkx7SerYEAbs1MGcBCDok_4yQUW1KLlrVdgxIJyw2H7rZ4Y71sMQloeYy14tG2zN-d-G-GFAI3CzjA/s1600/Aruna.jpg" /></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11498452895791698297noreply@blogger.com0