कल आज और कल

बचपन की इक रात को,
उजली बिजली में,
जड़ से एक बरगद,
उखडता देखा|
सुबह अनगिनत टूटे पेड़ देखे,
नीचे,
जिन्हें बरगद ने बड़ा किया था,
खुद की निगरानी में,
उनके बदले धूप झेलकर,
आँधी साथ खेलकर।

मिट्टी की टूटी वो चाय दुकान देखी,
जहाँ बिस्कुट खाने की दादा से रोज जिद कर जीतता,
और कुल्हड़ में पहलेपहल गरम चाय पीना सीखता,
उसकी खपरैल छत को पैरों के पास देखा।

और सफ़ेद कपडे में,
गेंदे के हार से सजी,
पहली बार
एक लाश देखी।

लाश राजू के सोये दादा की थी,
जिनके पास पहली बार शतरंज देखा।

राजू अब चाय नहीं बेचता,
उसे शहर की एक बड़ी दुकान का मालिक बनते देखा।

बरगद जाने के बाद वहां वीराना न है,
उसी बारिश में एक आम की फेंकी गुठली से,
अंकुर बढ़ कर एक वृक्ष होता देखा,
जो गली के बच्चों को टिकोले देता नहीँ थकता।

इंसानों को थमते देखा,
चोट खा गिरते देखा,
दुःख पर रुकते, सुख पर हँसते देखा।

पर,
ज़िन्दगी को कभी इंतज़ार करते नहीं देखा,
चलते, गिरते और सँभलते देखा।
न आँखों में कोई गिला देखा,
न पैरों में इतिहास के जंजीर देखे
हर पल उसे बहते देखा
ऐसे,
जैसे कि,
आम्र वृक्ष युग के प्रारम्भ से यहीं है,
और राजू के दादा को किसी ने नहीँ देखा।

माई के नाम का ख़त

तुम्हारे एक ख़त का
इंतज़ार अब भी है।
तलाश ख़त्म कहाँ हुई मेरी।
साँस टूटने तक
दरवाजे पर
आस टिकी रहेगी।
नीली अन्तर्देसी में
नीले कलम से तुम्हारी लिखावट
मायूस हो ताकती है मुझे।
कहना चाह कर भी जो कह न पाते तुम
मैं पढ़ लेती
और चार आँसू टपका लेती।
पन्नों पर आंसुओं के धब्बों पर
अँगुली फिरा
दो पल सिसक लेती हूँ कभी
जब तुम्हारे बच्चे घर पर नहीं होते।
एक ख़त और लिखो,
कि आखिरी अन्तर्देशि आए
एक ज़माना हो गया।

The passing away of Nobel Laureate 'Vidia' Naipaul

This morning, I woke up with the news of death of the Indian-origin writer V S Naipaul. Sir ‘Vidia’ died at 85. Yet, he will be remembered through his creations and for his controversial views (e.g. Vinoba Bhave was a fool and whole life tried to copycat Gandhi without understanding him) and his ways(declining invitations and interviews for money; and findings wrongs with the world). He was awarded Nobel for his non-fiction writings, but his fiction writings are equally good. He considered "A House for Mr Biswas" as his master creation.
And It was the first novel I got immersed into.
Though set in Trinidad, the book depicted the conversations, mannerisms, personalities, social problems and situations in such manner that an Indian brought up in joint family would find close resemblance with. This book tenderly touched upon the joint family politics and the pleasure and confusion children come across as a result. It showed the husband- wife romance in backdrop of a noisy and varied joint family. But it was the loving relationship of a father and his children, and the experience of growing up in poverty but with love that bonded my heart to the novel. The book has no moral advice, no lessons, no explicit expressions,P is boring for first 60 pages, but if one can persist, the book rewards the reader with joy, by the end. This made me a fan of his writing and later I read 5 books written by him and one on him (by Paul Theroux). And yes, in none other than two novels, Naipaul was at his best. Truly, "A House..." is his masterpiece.

But becoming a fan of Naipaul and Naipaul’s writings are two different things. He shared a contradictory relation with the world- while his writing won him appreciation and prizes, his demeanour, attitude and staunch opinions created many haters for him. It is as easy to criticize Naipaul as for people to criticize their parents or governments.
Now, that Vidia has died, the world will be kinder to him (as it is to most people in their death) and his writings will be loved with him absent to be hated.
The writers’ brethren (friends and critics) would shower their messages on social media but somehow I feel they will find solace in a quote of Badauni on death of Muhammad Bin Tugalaq, “The king was freed from his people and they from their king”.
Well, that is their opinion, Sir Vidia. I wish you rest in peace.
Rest in Peace, great writer. RIP