Reminiscing

Kuch woh din bhi the jab life mein purpose the par kaam nahin.
Aaj kaam to bahut hai, purpose jaane kidhar chalagaya.
Shaam ke 5 baje, Hudson Lines mein Friends ki woh chai
Wills Navycut aur badi badi baatein
3k per month ki pocket money
Aur laakhon ke sapne
Un sapnon ki bhi ek apni duniya thi
purpose the par kaam nahin
Aaj lakh to hain, sapnein jaane kahaan kho gaye
tab ek girlfriend ko taraste the
aaj anek ke baad bhi pyaar nahin
tab dost aur dosti hi duniya thi
mohabbat ki ek kasak raat bhar ke gupp-shupp ka fodder tha
aaj kal to raat agle din ki majdoori ke beech ka ek gap hai
Kabhi paise hon to dost ko rikshe mein life dena
jab gareebi to khud paidal chal lena
smile fir bhi colgate ka ad bani rehti thi
aaj jaane kidhar to kho gayi hai
kabhi kabhi aati hai
dost ke orkut account ki photograph se nikal kar
sadak pe pillon se jhagadte bachchon ko dekhkar
then like everything ephemeral
gone
tab ek junoon tha nayi bhaashayein seekhne ka
aaj bhaashaaon mein jubaan ghum ho gayi hai
tab ek chaahat thi kuch paane ki
aaj chaahaton mein khud ko kho diya hai
haan woh photograph mein mudi hui bike ki handle
time machine ki tereh le jaati hai wapas
development ke naam pe humne backdrop badal diya
umra ne badal diye patra
sawaal ye hai
kya hum un bhaawnaaon ko bhi badal paayenge jinke beech humne is jeevan ki neev rakhi thi
bahut kuch khoya, bahut kuch paaya
gham bhi nahin hain, na koi malaal,
sirf ek void hai
aur ek nayi chaahat, usko bharne ki

Strolling Down The Park Street.

Here is something I penned down way back in 2003 and stubled across again while sorting an old mailbox.


It has been a happy day,
Strolling down the Park Street.

On a Sunday,
When everyone stays back home in Calcutta
(They changed the name, to uphold the CULTURE,
Whatever that means)
I spare my Newspaper office,
To live the romanticism of the city.

The streets are empty,
Barring the few cars passing by.
Trincas' looks weary, after a reverberating saturday night.
And amongst the calm flows the rippling happiness,
Lost amongst her thoughts.

The Oxford Book Gallery is closed,
Shutters down with a few titles in the window,
Promising an opening tomorrow.
I can wait for that.

Because right now, my legs are on their own,
Wading their way through the lovely Norwester breeze.
And my thoughts are lost mulling on her smile.
Those beautiful assurances of comfort,
Pouring out of her eyes.

We have a Barista now,
Opposite the Park Hotel.
Its open.
The aroma of coffee sneaking out of the glass doors.
Tempting to simulate the literary buds in your mind.
I will go back to that,
But right now,
I am strolling down the Park Street.

I do not belong to this city.
But I am not a stranger to her,
I have met her a lot in my thoughts.
And today thoughts of Her meet this city.

My legs are taking me to the Maidan,
Years back Pete Seeger sung there,
His songs of Hope.

Today I sing my song of love,
For Her. Of Her
Breaking into smile,
Momentarily embarrased for no reason and not caring afterwards.
Who cares when I have her
And its Her thoughts that make me smile.

I don't know why do I feel good.
Does it matter?

Maybe love does such things to you,
Or maybe its the city,

But I love being here now,
Strolling down the Park Street.