Straight from the Heart

The island is a raised platform of earth in the middle of the Sarobar lake. From the banks of the lake, the island looks like heaven, stuff that paradise is made of! The size of the island may not have been much bigger than a circle of approx. 20 meters in diameter. On days when the surface of the lake is ruffled by the wind, the island appears to float freely, a dense mass of greenery amidst the bluish-black waters of the lake. I don’t think anyone has ever set foot on this island. The serenity of the island proves beyond doubt that it has escaped the attention of humanity. The creepers that grow on the trees and fall into the waters of the lake below have a darker shade of green than the green of the leaves of the Gulmohur and other trees on the island. If the island had witnessed the invasion of mankind, these creepers would have been the first to bear the brunt of the human invasion-torn from the trees to make way and trampled under the feet of the humans. Instead it grows wild an...

Peals of laughter, sometimes a soft parting, Of the lips of a lover. The cries of a child or the emotions of a sister or a brother. Scenes of a battle that talk of all those who bled. Or a macabre ghost that fills the heart with dread. The characters stare on the face. Making us laugh, cry or, with adventure, our hearts race! A doctor for the heart, a teacher of the mind. The treasure of knowledge is free for all who can find. Ruskin Bond’s stories that talk of the Dehra town. Chetan Bhagat’s story of grown up years of his own. Life in Rome during days of Cleopetra and Ceasar. Or smaller Indian towns like Badayun or a town in Bihar. When heart is heavy due to a tiff with the lover. Or tense with office work pressure. In timnes like these, a good book has a role, To provide instant relief for the mind and the soul. As the wise men doth say, Be it rain, hail or be it bright sunshine. In melancholy or in joys alike. Books are a man’s best friend for life.

I didn’t want to come to Berlin. Guess the law of Diminishing marginal utility has begun to catch up with me-too many visits to countries beyond the Indian shores and the aura has begun to fade. And why not? Most cities outside India look very much the same, especially the European cities. Clean roads, highways with occasional cars seen travelling at break-neck speed, twisting flyovers that reminds one of the “jalebis” back home and people with near normal shapely toned bodies that make me feel old and diseased! No honking sounds of cars, no traffic jams and perfectly functioning traffic lights ensuring free flowing traffic on the roads. There seems to order everywhere and people go about doing their task with a sombre face, as if they couldn’t care if the world came to an end the very next instant. And then there are those pre-conceived notions about “the-not-so-fair-skinned” people from the eastern parts of the world! “We are serving beef sandwiches,” was what the air-hostess said ...

For a conference they all came. The brown, the furry, the gory and the lame. Heads bent low, tongues hanging out. Some made their presence felt by barking out loud. The park was the place, ideal for a gathering. For rolling in the grass, or for (whenever they needed) peeing. The topic of discussion involved the diminishing crumbs. That’s picked up by the ragged man or the boy from the slums. “The human race has become very greedy”, said the brownie. “They consume all, as long as it doesn’t cost them any money! Every small bit disappears quickly into their stomach. And for us, its only the “foodie” smell that’s left back!” “In frustration we end up licking and pawing. Our noses buried deep, though its futile and ends in nothing. Must we be treated like dogs just because we are so? Live and let live, why can’t the humans practise this motto”?

Her eyes lit up with a spark but before Raju could notice it, the spark had been replaced by uncertainty and doubt. “What’s the matter,” snapped Gunjan as she took the stem of roses from Raju’s hand. “Why did you have to bring flowers?” “I didn’t bring them. I had to, sort of, buy it!” “I knew it! It’s certainly not your nature to bring flowers back home! The days of gifting flowers are long gone! These things only happen in movies! Anyway, you can throw these flowers away!” Gunjan was trying to continue the fight that had been left incomplete because of Raju storming out of the house in frustration. Although he could sense his tempers rising, Raju was too tired and in no mood to pick up the fight from where he had left. It was sultry and the humidity made him sweat profusely from every pore of his body. Frustrated and tired of fighting, he had gone out for an evening stroll thinking it would cool him down. Midway, he had stopped at a medicine shop to buy a few medicines for their ...

चाँद सितारों के बीच बैठे, इंसानों की ज़मीन से दूर हटके, अगर होता हमारा एक आशियाना? सवेरे का उगता, या फिर शाम की लालिमा लिए, सूरज खिड़की से झांक, मुस्कुरा कर "हेल्लो" कहता. हवाओं में वोह ठंडक होती. जोह थकान को दूर भागती, पसीने को प्यार से पोचती. शहर के कोलाहल, गन्दगी की बदबू से बहुत दूर, ऊंचे आसमान में, कितना सुन्दर होता हमारा यह आशियाना? घर के अन्दर ही मानते आषाढ़, श्रावण, जब बादल आकर dhak देता घर का आँगन. तरसते नयन को मिला होता चैन, जब दूर दूर तक दीखता हरियाली. मगर शायद यह भगवान् को मंज़ूर न था. आसमान की बोली लगाने में मैं पीछे रह गया. अर्थ व्यवस्था की जानकारी थी मेरी बहुत ही कमजोर. अफसोश, आसमान में आशियाने का हमारा ख्वाब, सिर्फ एक ख्वाब बनकर ही रह गया.

Tucked in a corner of my wallet. One amongst the many of its breed. Not commanding much respect, Was a soiled fifty rupee note! Its crumpled edges and dirty looks, Almost torn along the centre fold, Made it not worth much to me. Shopkeepers refused to accept, Politely asking me to replace, As if I was the one who had printed the same. Get it changed at the bank, Was the advice given by my friend. No one is going to accept such a dirty note, He helpfully explained. Then I saw this beggar boy. His dress was torn and hair matted. Layers of dirt seemed stuck on his face. Tapping the window of the cars at the traffic light He begged for a rupee by displaying his plight. I called him over and handed him the note. In soiled hands, I thrust the soiled note. Am sure it will of use to him, I thought. Be it soiled, nevertheless, lot of worth. For a second, the boy seemed to have been struck dumb. Was it delight that made his senses go numb? “I do not own a ban...