Monday, 28 April 2008

ले दनादन ट्वेन्टी-२०

वन-डे ने जब टेस्ट को, टक्कर में दी मात।
ट्वेन्टी-ट्वेन्टी ने किया, तब आकर उत्पात॥

तब आकर उत्पात मचा, डी.एल.एफ़ कप में।
जुटे धुरंधर देश-देश के नाहक गप में॥

धन-कुबेर इस मेले की रौनक बढ़वाते।
फ़िल्मी तारे आकर टी।आर.पी. चढ़ाते॥


चीयर-लीडर थक गये, नाच-नाच बेहाल।
चौके-छक्के पड़ रहे भज्जी हो गये लाल॥

भज्जी हो गये लाल, दनादन हार गये जब।
जीना हुआ मुहाल, सन्त को मार गये तब॥

सुन सत्यार्थमित्र, ये खेल है गज़ब निराला।
भाई के हाथों भाई को पिटवा डाला॥

Thursday, 24 April 2008

छोटा कितना दर्जा, बड़ा कितना दुख

मधुकर उपाध्याय
...औरतों के खिलाफ जुल्म का मसला कितना बड़ा है, मैं यह महसूस करके भौचक्की रह जाती हूं। हर उस औरत के मुकाबले, जो जुल्म के खिलाफ लड़ती है और बच निकलती है, कितनी औरतें रेत में दफन हो जाती हैं, बिना किसी कद्र और कीमत के, यहां तक कि कब्र के बिना भी। तकलीफ की इस दुनिया में मेरा दुख कितना छोटा है।...
पाकिस्तान की मुख्तारन माई का ये दुख दरअसल उतना छोटा नहीं है। बहुत बड़ा है। इसकी कई मिसालें इस्लामी देशों में फैली हुई मिलती हैं। एशिया से अफ्रीका तक। ऐसा शायद पहली बार हुआ है, जब इस्लामी देशों की औरतों की बात किताबों की शक्ल में लिख कर कही गई है। इनमें से कई किताबें औरतों की लिखी हुई हैं।

मुख्तारन माई की किताब ...इन द नेम ऑफ ऑनर... तकरीबन दो साल पहले आई थी। उसी के साथ सोमालिया की एक लड़की अयान हिरसी अली की किताब आई ...इनफिडेल... और उसके बाद खालिद हुसैनी की किताब ... थाउजेन्ड स्प्लैंडिड सन्स...। इस बीच दो किताबें और आईं। जॉर्डन की एक महिला नोरमा खोरी ने ...फोरबिडन लव... और इरान की अज़र नफ़ीसी ने ...रीडिंग लोलिता इन तेहरान... लिखी। एक और किताब नार्वे की आस्ने सेयरेस्ताद की थी, ...द बुकसेलर ऑफ काबुल...।

इन किताबों को एक धागा जोड़ता है- इस्लामी देशों में औरतों की स्थिति। इस पर पहले भी काफी कुछ लिखा गया है, लेकिन इन किताबों को एक साथ पढ़ना तस्वीर को बेहतर ढंग से सामने रखता है। शायद इसलिए भी कि इन्हें महिलाओं की स्थिति बयान करने के मूल इरादे से नहीं लिखा गया। उनके सामने देश, समाज और दुनिया के समीकरण थे, जिसे उन लेखकों ने अपने ढंग से सामने रखा। महिलाएं पात्रों की तरह आईं और अंत तक आते-आते उनकी भूमिका महत्वपूर्ण हो गई। यह भी कम आश्चर्यजनक नहीं है कि इनमें से खालिद हुसैनी को छोड़कर बाकी सब लेखिकाएं हैं। महिलाओं की जटिल दुनिया तक उनकी पहुंच संभवतः इसीलिए आसान रही होगी।
अयान हिरसी अली का उपन्यास ... इनफिडेल... आत्मकथात्मक है। सोमालिया में उसके जन्म से लेकर अमेरिका जाने तक। किताब कई जगह इतनी तीखी है कि पढ़ते हुए झुंझलाहट होती है, गुस्सा आता है और सवाल उठता है कि जो जैसा है, वैसा क्यों है?
अयान का बचपन, जाहिर है, सोमालिया में गुजरा। पिता बहुत संपन्न नहीं थे लेकिन हालात बहुत खराब भी नहीं थी। इतना जरूर था कि अयान को इस्लामी जीवन जीने की तालीम मिली थी। सिर पर दुपट्टा, बदन पूरा ढ़का हुआ और सवाल करने पर एक अघोषित पाबंदी। अब्बा ने कनाडा के एक लड़के के साथ उसका निकाह तय कर दिया पर अयान को पूरी ज़िंदगी की गुलामी पसंद नहीं थी। किसी तरह वह सोमालिया से निकलकर हालैंड पहुंच गई। जान पर खतरा होने की गलतबयानी करके उसने शरणार्थी का दर्जा हासिल किया और उसके बाद उसने जिंदगी के नए अर्थ ढूंढ़े। सोमालिया की दूसरी महिलाओं की मदद के लिए डच भाषा सीखी और हॉलैंड की नागरिकता हासिल की। दुभाषिये की तरह सरकारी नौकरी की। एक राजनीतिक दल के नेता की शोध सचिव बनी। चुनाव लड़ी और संसद सदस्य बन गई। महिलाओं की स्थिति पर हिरसी के बयानों ने उसके इतने दुश्मन बना दिए कि उसे कड़ी सुरक्षा में रहने के अलावा कई बार दूसरे देशों में शरण लेनी पड़ी। अंततः शरणार्थी का दर्जा हासिल करने के समय बोला गया झूठ सामने आया और हिरसी की नागरिकता छीन ली गई। संसद सदस्यता भी चली गई, लेकिन तब तक उसे अमेरिका में काम मिल गया था। अयान के लिए सांसद बनने से ज्यादा महत्वपूर्ण इस्लाम में महिलाओं के अधिकार और उनकी स्थिति का मुद्दा था और नए काम में उसे यही करने का मौका मिल रहा था। ...इनफिडेल... में हिरसी अली ने अपनी बात बहुत बेबाकी औऱ ईमानदारी से रखी है। नतीजतन वह विवादों के घेरे में आ गई।
कठिन स्थितियों, विपन्नता और रूढ़ मानसिकता से जूझने और कामयाब होने की इस अद्भुत आत्मकथा के कई हिस्से निश्चित रूप से विवादास्पद हैं, लेकिन शायद साफगोई की अपेक्षा करने वालों को वे उस तरह नहीं अखरेंगे।
आस्ने सेयरेस्ताद की ...द बुकसेलर ऑफ काबुल... भी आत्मकथात्मक है। पत्रकार की तरह काम करने वाली आस्ने रिपोर्टिंग के लिए काबुल पहुंची तो एक दुकान देखकर हैरान रह गईं। रूसी, तालिबानी, मुजाहिदीन और अमेरिकी हमलों से तबाह अफगानिस्तान की राजधानी में किताब की एक बड़ी दुकान। आस्ने को समझ में नहीं आया कि ऐसी ध्वस्त अर्थव्यवस्था, तनाव और लगातार बम धमाकों के बीच आखिर कौन किताब खरीदता और पढ़ता होगा।
उसने यह सवाल दुकान के मालिक मोहम्मद शाह रईस से पूछा। जवाब संतोषजनक नहीं लगा। फिर उसने रईस के सामने एक प्रस्ताव रखा कि वह चार महीने उसके परिवार के साथ रहना चाहती है। उसके घर में। रईस राजी हो गया। नॉर्वे लौटकर उसने अपनी किताब पूरी की। किताब में रईस का नाम बदलकर सुल्तान खान कर दिया लेकिन घटनाक्रम नहीं बदला।
पूरी किताब में सुल्तान खान एक पढ़े-लिखे अंग्रेजी बोलने वाले संपन्न अफगानी की तरह आता है, लेकिन घर की चहारदीवारी के भीतर उसका रूप बदला हुआ होता है। अपने परिवार, पत्नी और बेटियों के साथ वह अक्सर क्रूर होता है और कई बार आक्रामक भी। बहन घर में गुलाम की तरह रहती है। औरतों को टूटे फर्नीचर की तरह इधर-उधर फेंक दिया जाता है। किसी संमृद्ध अफगानी के घर के अंदर का ऐसा विवरण इससे पहले उपलब्ध नहीं था।
मैं काबुल के इंटरकांटिनेंटल होटल में रईस से मिला। उनकी एक दुकान होटल में भी है। जिक्र ...द बुकसेलर ऑफ काबुल... का आया तो रईस बिफर पड़े। कहा, ... आस्ने ने बहुत नाइंसाफी की है। सुल्तान खान मैं ही हूं। आस्ने की वजह से मैं पूरी दुनिया में बदनाम हो गया। उसने न सिर्फ मुझे, बल्कि मेरे मुल्क को भी बदनाम किया है। मैं उस पर मुकदमा करूंगा।... रईस से काफी देर बातचीत होती रही। उसी दौरान पता चला कि उन्होंने एक बार खुद किताब लिखकर उस किताब का जवाब देने के बारे में सोचा था। नॉर्वे के कई नाकामयाब चक्कर लगाने के बाद अब शायद उन्होंने अपनी किताब पूरी कर ली है।
अपने पहले उपन्यास ...काइट रनर... से चर्चा में आए खालिद हुसैनी की नई किताब ...थाउजेंड स्प्लेंडिड संस... की पृष्ठभूमि भी अफगानिस्तान ही है। पूरा बचपन काबुल और हेरात के आसपास बिताने वाले खालिद इस समय अमेरिका में रहते हैं। उनकी किताब एक तरह से अफगानिस्तान की पिछले तीस साल की कहानी है। सोवियत आक्रमण से लेकर तालिबान और उसके बाद तक।
दो पीढ़ियों की यह कहानी लगभग जादुई सम्मोहन के साथ पाठक को बांधे रखती है, जिसमें तबाही, बर्बादी और दुखद घटनाक्रमों के बीच ज़िंदगी और खुशियां तलाश करते चरित्र हैं। यानी कि तकरीबन हर पन्ने पर इतिहास और ज़िंदगी साथ-साथ चलते हैं। किताब चार हिस्सों में बंटी हुई है। पहला हिस्सा एक महिला चरित्र मरियम, दूसरा और चौथा हिस्सा एक अन्य महिला चरित्र लैला पर है और तीसरा मरियम और लैला की साझा कहानी है।
पश्चिमी अफगानिस्तान में हेरात के एक गांव में मरियम अपनी मां के साथ रहती है। पिता ने दूसरी शादी कर ली है। अमीर है और हेरात में रहता है। वह मरियम से मिलने तक से इनकार कर देता है। बाद में मरियम की शादी काबुल के एक मोची रशीद से होती है। मरियम शादी करके काबुल आती है। उसी के घर की गली में लैला रहती है, एक ताजिक लड़की। उसका एक दोस्त है तारिक। उसके संबंध बहुत करीबी हैं, शारीरिक तक। कुछ दिन के बाद तारिक का परिवार काबुल से चला जाता है। लैला के मां-बाप काबुल छोड़ने को होते हैं कि एक बम धमाके में मारे जाते हैं। घायल लैला को रशीद बचाता है। अपने घर में रखता है और बाद में उससे शादी कर लेता है। इसलिए कि मरियम उसके बच्चे की मां नहीं बन सकती। मरियम के साथ उसका व्यवहार दिन-ब-दिन खराब और क्रूर होता जाता है। लैला मां बनती है, लेकिन वह जानती है कि पिता रशीद नहीं, तारिक है। एक दिन तारिक अचानक लौट आता है। बाद में रशीद को सच्चाई पता चलती है और वह लैला के साथ भी उसी तरह क्रूर हो जाता है। एक रोज जब वह लैला को जान से मारने पर आमादा होता है, मरियम बेलचे से रशीद की हत्या कर देती है। बाद में वह खुद को तालिबान को सौंप देती है और उसे फांसी हो जाती है। तारिक लैला को लेकर हेरात जाता है, जहां मरियम को दफनाया गया था। दोनों वहीं अपनी बेटी का नामकरण करते हैं- मरियम।
वह चाहे लैला और तारिक हों या सुल्तान खान की अनाम बीवी और बहन, या फिर अयान हिरसी अली- उनका दुख और समाज में उनका दर्जा नहीं बदलता। भौगोलिक परिवर्तनों से उसमें कोई फर्क नहीं आता। सोमालिया के रेगिस्तान से लेकर अफगान पहाड़ियों तक।
क्या समाज में वाकई नई सोच की जगह नहीं बची है? या फिर यथास्थितिवादी और कठमुल्ला इस कदर हावी हैं कि नई रोशनी वहां तक पहुंच नहीं पा रही।

बाबू परमानंद नहीं रहे

हरियाणा के पूर्व राज्यपाल और जम्मू-कश्मीर विधानसभा के अध्यक्ष रहे बाबू परमानंद का लंबी बीमारी के बाद जम्मू में निधन हो गया। वो 76 साल के थे। बाबू परमानंद का जन्म जम्मू-कश्मीर में आरएस पुरा तहसील के सारोर गांव में हुआ। वो छह बार जम्मू-कश्मीर विधानसभा के लिए चुने गए। अपने राजनीतिक जीवन में उनका जुड़ाव नेशनल कॉन्फ्रेंस, कांग्रेस और बीजेपी से रहा। वर्ष 2000 में वो हरियाणा के राज्यपाल बने और केंद्र में यूपीए की सरकार आने के बाद उन्हें ये पद छोड़ना पड़ा।

बाबू परमानंद की एकेडमिक्स और खासकर अर्थशास्त्र में अच्छी दखल मानी जाती थी। हालांकि उन्होंने कानून की भी पढ़ाई की थी। बाबू परमानंद जम्मू-कश्मीर बैंक और जम्मू रूरल बैंक के निदेशक भी रहे।

दलित साहित्य में उनकी गहरी दिलचस्पी थी और वो भारतीय दलित साहित्य अकादमी जम्मू-कश्मीर के अध्यक्ष भी रहे। डोगरी के अलावा हिंदी, इंग्लिश, उर्दू और पंजाबी पर उनका अधिकार था। उन्हें राष्ट्रीय दलित साहित्य अकादमी का बीआर अंबेडकर सम्मान भी मिला। ये सम्मान उन्हें तत्कालीन पूर्व राष्ट्रपति के आर नारायणन ने प्रदान किया।

बाबू परमानंद को हमारी श्रद्धांजलि।

Thursday, 17 April 2008

ठेला

प्रयाग विश्वविद्यालय शहर के उत्तरी छोर पर पसरा हुआ है.यहाँ से भी उत्तर बढे तो एक गाँव मिलता है -चांदपुर सलोरी, शहर से बिल्कुल जुड़ा हुआ.पहले तो यह गाँव ही था लेकिन अब सुना है नगर-निगम इस के उस पार तक पसर गया है. अब से करीब बीस साल पहले जब मैं पहली बार प्रयाग आकर इसी गाँव में एक कमरा किराये पर लेकर रहने लगा था तो वहाँ की आबो-हवा बिल्कुल गाँव जैसी ही मिली थी .लेकिन महानगर से जुड़े होने के कारण उस समय भी वहाँ एक डिग्री कॉलेज, लड़के और लड़कियों के लिए दो अलग इंटर कॉलेज और अनेक शिशु मन्दिर खुल चुके थे. बैंक भी था और पक्के मकानों की छतों पर स्टार टीवी की छतरियाँ भी उग आई थी. सब कुछ शहर से मेल खाता हुआ. इलाहाबाद में अपना कॅरिअर सवारने आये असंख्य विद्यार्थी इस गाँव में तब भी रहते थे. किरायेदारी का धंधा यहाँ खूब फल- फूल रहा था. इसी गाँव के नुक्कड़ पर चाय -पानी, शाक-सब्जी और परचून की दुकानों की कतार से अलग एक निराला विक्रेता था- ‘कंठी-बजवा’. लंबे छरहरे बदन पर साठ से उपर की उमर बताने वाली झुर्रियां, पतली, नुकीली सफ़ेद मूछे, लाल डोरेदार आँखों के नीचे झूलती ढीली चमड़ी और गंजे सिर के किनारों पर बचे सफ़ेद बाल उसकी अपरिमित सक्रियता को रोमांचक बना देते थे. चारखाने की मैल में चिमटी उतंग लुंगी, टेरीकाट की मटमैली सफ़ेद कमीज और कंधे पर लटका काला पड़ चुका सफ़ेद गमछा जो धूप में उसके सिर पर बने चाँद को ढक लेता था. हमेशा यही बाना...
डिग्री कॉलेज के गेट से लेकर गाँव के नुक्कड़ तक उसका ठेला उसकी सुपरिचित और विशिष्ट आवाज़ के साथ कहीं भी मिल जाता था. लड़के हमेशा उसे घेरे रहते थे. कुछ खरीदारी के लिए तो कुछ सिर्फ़ उसकी बे सिर-पैर की हंसोड़ बातों का मज़ा लेने के लिए. ग्रामीण शैली के मुहावरों व लोकोक्तियों से अटी उसकी धारा प्रवाह भाषा का नाम हम कभी तय नहीं कर पाए. हाँ, बीच-बीच में एक शब्द नगीने की तरह जड़ा हुआ हमारे कान से टकरा जाता था –‘कंठी-बजवा’. तभी तो हम उसे इसी नाम से जानने लगे थे. यह या तो उसकी कहानियो का कोई नायक होगा या उसका ही कोई प्रतिनिधि ..जो हर आने -जाने वाले को मानो हाथ पकड़ कर खींच लाता था. इलाहाबाद के नामी अमरूद हों या छील -काट कर बेंचे जाने वाले कच्चे कटहल की सब्जी, कच्ची अमियाँ और नीबू हो या पके दशहरी आम और केले. बदले सामान के साथ न तो उसका स्थान बदला, न ही स्टाइल और न ही खरीदारों की जमघट ....
...उसकी उम्र भी शायद रुक गई थी .चार -चार बेटियों की शादी ,बेटों की पढ़ाई और सड़क के किनारे पक्का मकान सब कुछ उसने इसी ठेले से कर लिया ."लड़के तो जवान हो गए ,अब यह पसीना क्यों बहाते हो दादा?”, पूछने पर उसने कैफियत दी- "यही तो हमरी ‘लच्छमी’ है बाबूजी !"

Friday, 11 April 2008

ब्लॉगर मित्रों,
लीजिये, आज उस कुत्ते की कहानी फ़िर बताने का मन कर रहा है जिसके बारे में मैंने तेरह साल पहले एक ‘आंखों देखा हाल’ लिखा था। दरअसल हाल ही में मुझे एक मित्र ने एक विचित्र रहस्य की बात बताई है। इलाहाबाद के छात्रावास में रहते हुए जब मैंने यह आइटम लिखा था तो दीवार-पत्रिका पर लगाते वक्त मैंने कत्तई नहीं सोचा था कि एक सचमुच के कुत्ते पर ईमानदारी से लिखी गई यह कहानी मेरे पड़ोसी अन्तःवासी को इतनी अखर जायेगी कि वो मरने - मारने पर उतारू हो जाएगा। मुझे अब पता चला है कि उस मूर्ख ने ख़ुद को इस कहानी का लक्षित मुख्य पात्र समझ लिया था और मुझे सबक सिखाने कि फिराक में रहने लगा था। अब सौभाग्य से उसके निशाने से बच ही निकला हूँ तो इस कहानी को हूबहू दुबारा पेश करता हूँ। इस उम्मीद में कि कोई यह बतायेगा कि मुझसे लिखने में गलती कहाँ हुई थी।

मौन क्यों तू ?

कुत्ता भी अजीब जानवर होता है। इसका व्यक्तित्व भी अजीब है। आप पूछेंगे कुत्ते में भी व्यक्तित्व हो सकता है क्या? अजी जनाब ,व्यक्तित्व केवल आदमी में थोड़े ही होता है जानवर में भी हो सकता है (हाँ ,कुत्ते के मामले में यदि कोई भाषाई रूढिवादी चाहे तो इसे कुत्त्रित्व कह ले .)आखिर व्यक्ति भी तो जानवर ही है। ऐसा जानवर जो सबसे बुद्धिमान है और संभवतः इसीलिए सबसे खतरनाक bhii लेकिन मैं यहाँ कुत्ते कि बात कर रहा हूँ ,जिसका व्यक्तित्व होता है और उसमे विविधता भी होती है। यहाँ मैं ऐसे कुत्ते कि बात करने वाला हूँ जिसका व्यक्तित्व ऐसा है, जो किसी दूसरे कुत्ते में नहीं दिखा।
यह किसी बड़ी हवेली के ऊँचे दरवाजे पर बंधा 'बब्बर' नहीं है जो अन्दर हो रहे हर कृत्य से बेखबर होता है; जिसकी नजर बाहर से आने वाली हस्तियों और अन्दर से आने वाली हड्डियों पर लगी रहती है। वह 'अन्दर जाने लायक' लोगों को पहचानता है। यह कुत्ता झबरे सफ़ेद बालों वाला 'बाबी ' भी नहीं है, जो नर्म मुलायम गोद में बैठकर कार की खिड़की से झांकता हुआ शाम के वक्त अपने लिए बिस्कुट और शैम्पू वगैरह खरीदवाने या छींक की दवा कराने निकलता है। यह शहर का आवारा कुत्ता भी नहीं है जो सड़कों पर अपनी बिरादरी के साथ बात-बात पर ' झौं-झौं ' करता है और चाय-पानी व चाट की दुकान पर मंडराते हुए जूठे पत्तलों की ताक में रहता है। उसकी स्पर्धा तो मैले -कुचैले कपड़ों में लिपटे छोटे -छोटे अनाथ बच्चों व बूढी औरतो से रहती है; जो कटोरा लिए या हाथ फैलाये ऐसी जगहों के चक्कर लगाती हैं। यह कुत्ता ऐसा नहीं है।
गाँव में भी मैंने ऐसा कुत्ता नही देखा। वहाँ तो कुत्ते अपना इलाका बाँट लेते हैं, और शहरी शोहदों की तरह अपने -अपने इलाके के बादशाह बने फिरते हैं। ये अपने इलाके के भीतर तो पूँछ उठाये ,शान मे इतरा कर उछल -उछल कर चलते हैं; लेकिन दुर्योग से अगर दूसरे इलाके में जाना हुआ तो कान गिरा कर जमीन सूंघते हुए चलते हैं। थोड़ी-थोड़ी दूर पर टांग उठा कर ये कुछ ऐसी निशानी छोड़ते चलते हैं, जो संभवतः इन्हे वापस लौटने में मदद करती है। खतरा भाँपते ही इनकी पूँछ सीधी होकर जाने क्यो दोनों टांगो के भीतर जा समाती है?
गावों में कुछ रईसजादे कुत्ते भी होते है। 'कुत्ता-समाज' में इनकी बड़ी धाक होती है। अपने मालिक के घर से इन्हें नियमित भोजन मिल जाता है, इसलिए स्वास्थ्य अच्छा रहता है। इन कुत्तों के इर्द -गिर्द कुछ दुबले-पतले मरियल कुत्ते पूँछ हिलाते रहते हैं। इनकी दशा धाकड़ नेताओं के चमचों की तरह होती है। ये अपने मुखिया की खुराक से बचे जूठन पर ही अपना पेट पालते हैं। असल में ,जब से गाँव में पक्के मकान और मजबूत दरवाजे बनने लगे हैं तबसे चोरी से रसोई में घुसकर रोटियां चुराना मुश्किल हो चला है। इसी वजह से अब चमचों को सुविधा-सम्पन्न कुत्तो की दया पर जीना पड़ता है।
कुत्तों के एक समाज शास्त्री ने पता नहीं किस अध्ययन के आधार पर मुझे बताया था की धीरे -धीरे ग्रामीण कुत्तो का शहर की ओर पलायन होता जा रहा है। उन्होंने शायद आदमियों की इस प्रवृत्ति को कुत्तों पर लागू कर दिया था। मुझे पहले तो यह बात खटकी थी ;लेकिन अब विश्वास करने का मन हो रहा है इसकी वजह वही कुत्ता है जिसके व्यक्तित्व की चर्चा मैं करना चाहता हूँ।
इसका व्यक्तित्व बड़ा रहस्यमय है. जैसे कोई देहाती नया-नया शहर में आया हो. अनजानी, अनदेखी, एक ऐसी दुनिया में जहाँ उसका कोई परिचय नहीं. लेकिन वहीं पर रहने और जीविकोपार्जन की मजबूरी हो; या, जैसे कोई मज़नू अपनी लैला की अन्यत्र शादी हो जाने पर उसका गम भुलाने की गरज से बहुत दूर किसी अनजाने शहर में चला आया हो ,लेकिन उसकी याद मिटती न हो. मन खोया-खोया रहे. यह कुत्ता जब चलता है तो पैर कहाँ पड़ रहे हैं, इसे शायद इसका पता ही नहीं रहता है . इतना शऊर भी नहीं कि दो -चार मित्र ही बना ले .कुछ हँसी -खेल ही हुआ करे .बिल्कुल अकेला रहता है .देखते -देखते कार्तिक का महीना भी निकल गया .बेअसर .योगी की तरह काट yaa .

यह छात्रावास के लंबे से बरामदे में रहता है. हर कमरे से कुछ न कुछ ऐसा जरूर फेंका जाता है जिसे चाटकर वह जी लेता है. बाहर की सड़क पर कम ही निकलता है. अन्तःवासियों की ही तरह स्वाध्याय में लीन रहता है .बाकी कुत्तों से भी दोस्ती नहीं है जैसे बिरादरी ने हुक्का-पानी बंद कर रखा हो. शरीर का ढांचा तो अच्छा है, लेकिन भोजन का कोई मुकम्मल इंतजाम न होने से शरीर सूख सी गई है. सफ़ेद और जामुनी छापों वाली चमड़ी किसी 'खानदानी' प्रजाति का परिचय तो देती है; लेकिन जब से यहाँ आया है, उसके बारे में लोगों की धारणा लगातार बदलती जा रही है.
यह जब आया था तो दुत्कारने पर आम कुत्तों की तरह भागता नही था बल्कि दुत्कारने वाले को पलट कर देखने लगता था. लोगों ने समझा पागल है. कुछ लोग मारने दौड़े तो इसने पागल जैसा कुछ भी नहीं किया. न भगा, न दांत निपोरे, न भौंका और न ही हमला किया. सबको विस्मय हुआ. किसी ने उसे 'विचित्र' कहा, किसी ने 'खतरनाक' तो एक सज्जन ने उसे 'चूतिया' तक कह डाला. किसी ने गाली दी- "स्साला! कुत्ता ही नहीं है! " मतैक्य नहीं रहा. मैंने समझा शायद मंद बुद्धि का होगा, क्योंकि कुत्ते जैसी चालाकी उसमे नहीं थी. लेकिन जल्दी ही पता चला कि भोजन का जुगाड़ वह भी चालाकी से ही करता है. फिर कुत्तों कि बिरादरी से अपना दामन बचा कर रखना भी कम चालाकी है क्या? फिर यह है क्या?
वाह रे कुदरत का खेल ! कितने आदमियों को कुत्ता बना डाला लेकिन एक कुत्ता, कुत्ता नहीं रह पाया. फिर मैंने सोचा, शायद कोई गहरी चोट खाया है. चोट खाकर आदमी दार्शनिक हो जाता है. लेकिन यह तो कुत्ता है? तो क्या हुआ? यदि आदमी कुत्तों जैसा व्यवहार कर सकता है तो कुत्ता आदमी जैसा क्यों नहीं? इसे कुत्तों की दुनिया से ऊब सी हो गई है. जैसे कभी-कभी आदमी को अपनी दुनिया से हो जाती है. अकेला बरामदे में बैठा रहता है. दूसरे कुत्तों या कुतियों को देखकर मुंह फेर लेता है.
इसने शायद मौन व्रत ले रखा है. जाने किससे नाराज है? अब यह कुत्तों से नहीं, आदमियों से नजरें मिलाता है. बगल से गुजरिये तो आँखों में घूरेगा, पार कर जाइये तो पीछे से घूरेगा. तब तक घूरेगा जब तक आँखों से ओझल न हो जाइये. जाने क्या जानना चाहता है? इसे क्या पता कि आदमी को पहचानना आदमी के लिए ही मुश्किल है. फिर कुत्ते की क्या बिसात? मुझे इस निरीह प्राणी से सहानुभूति होने लगी है. जाने कैसा दर्द है? किस से शिकायत है? किसका वियोग है? कैसे पता करूं? इसने तो मौन धारण कर रखा है. वैसे यह बोले भी तो कौन समझेगा? एक दार्शनिक कुत्ते का मर्म कौन समझ पायेगा?
फिर सोचता हूँ, कहीं ऐसा तो नहीं कि इसकी दृष्टि सभी आदमियों के मन के भीतर तक पहुँच रही है? सबके अन्दर छिपे जानवर को यह देख रहा है? इसीलिए भयभीत है, और चुप भी?

Monday, 7 April 2008

Some pages of a torn- diary (part 7)

(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)

11 June
The reservation movement has taken a bad shape. The whole society has been divided into two parts- pro-reservation and anti-reservation. Every day the city is being closed either by pro-reservation activists or by anti-reservation activists. Today when I was sitting with round face girl and the yellow eye girl in the canteen of the institute, a group of pro-reservation supporters stormed and broke all the things in the canteen. Anyhow I managed to save both the girls and asked them to go to there homes. Then I came out on the road. People were shouting slogans at the main roundabout of the city. I went there and entered into the crowd. All of sudden police started beating them. The crowd
was running away. On the road I stood firmly looking to the police force. I made my pose like Vivekanand. Now all were running but I was still stand there. No one touched me, even police crossed from my left and right, did not dare to hit me, due to my pose. It is very sad, our politicians are leading our country in a wrong direction. The whole scientific formula of Karl Marx is fail here. In Indian, there is no proletariat and no capitalist, here society has been divided on the base of caste. Marx You go to hell ! I am sure your revolutionary methodology will work here. India is not Europe or Russia, Indian is India. It has its own unique problems. Let me think about it deeply.


12 June
For a long time, I am not going to the English Institute. But today I met the young director. He told me about the blond girl. Her brother is aware of their relationship and he is compelling her not to go to Institute. Now they are meeting outside the Institute. She still wants to marry with him. The black's younger has tried to meet me many times but I am avoiding her. Today she came to my Omen, when I was trying to write a story. She started abusing me. When I touched her hands she became calm. I asked her,'' What do you want?'' She replied boldly, ''You just treat me like a woman, not like a girl.'' I looked to the portrait of Hitler and told her, ''You know you are underage?'' She came very near to me and said, ''I know only one thing that I am a woman, and I love you. I want to feel you from the bottom of my heart. I have seen my father making love with my mother. I want that love from you. Do not think that I am a little girl, think I am a woman, a complete woman. I know you would love my sister, but she has not been made for you. It is I who know how to love you.'' For a little while I want to feel her existence completely but something stops me, perhaps it is her tender age. I say her in soft voice, ''Little girl, I love you. But how can I kiss you and touch you?'' She understood my mental condition and hold my face in her hands then I felt her warm lips over my lips. Very soon I realized she is playing gently, smoothly and intensely. My blood was warming but I controlled myself any how. She laid me down on the bed and one after another she started taking off my clothes. I did not protest, but just enjoyed her initiatives. When someone knocked the door, I gently pushed her away. Now she has gone and first time in my life I experienced a girl in this way. I want more, ….I am waiting for her.


14 June
What is construction and what is destruction? Is construction possible without destruction? No! Where there is construction there is destruction. There is no construction without destruction. Construction and destruction are co-related. Marx wants to construct a new system so why he talks about destruction. What is dialectical theory? It is related with materialism. I think deeply about all the existing religions, and somewhere I believe that all the rituals of all religions have been constructed according to the materialistic point of views to meet the ultimate powers. But what is ultimate power? I think deeply about that ultimate power, or super power, but I see myself nowhere. What is spiritualism? Why man born? The ancient but important question, Who am I? Who am I ? Who am I? Why I am on the earth as a human being? What is the ultimate object of human being? And how I am supportive to this object. No ! Marx is wrong. Man is not means but end. And here Marx is absolutely wrong when he wants to make his commune through killing millions and millions people. All the ideologues that talk about the killing of people must be throw into Caspian Sea.


15 June
The professor in-charge of the journalism is an interesting person. He would write for a national magazine. He always glorifies his character and tries to please the head of the institute. Now he is an active congress man, like his father and has fought legislative election. He does not like me. A seminar was organized by him. I wanted to deliver my speech there, but he did not allow me. I jumped over the stage and snatched the mike and then started delivering my speech. I think I am good orator, and people flow with me. I just take there mind in different world, at least I feel so. Latter, he criticized me a lot and warned me to control my behavior. I am thinking to teach him a lesion. Let the time come.


17 June
After a long gap the painter girl came to meet me. She told me that her marriage was being fixed. I was sad to listen her words. I took tightly in my arms and started kissing her. She felt my warmth. I was not in mood to stop. I behaved with her like a wild animal. She started crying but I did not leave her. She hit me with a pen and it torn my right hand skin. I was in deep pain both mentally as well physically. She went away saying, ''you are an animal, I hate you and will never meet you.'' Who cares? You go to hell ! I, too, do want to see her. But still I am in a pain. First time I realize that woman is painful, too. I want the black girl's younger. Oh! Where are you? Please come, Please come. I need you badly. Really it is very painful to me.


19 June
Last day I went to meet a psychiatrist. I told him that my mind was not working properly, and I was depressed. He asked me a lot of questions regarding my earlier life and present occupation. I told him everything truly. When he knew that I wanted to be writer he suggested me to write all the things. I am following his instruction and trying my level best to write down everything. I have write down nearly five hundred pages, but still I think that I am depressed.

23 June
I have used opium today. Marx says religion is like opium but I say nothing is like opium. It just leads me to a wonderland. All the functions of my mind have changed completely. I have drunk more than ten glasses of water but I am still thirsty. I feel all the great thinkers are sitting in my Omen and they are laughing over me. Oh ! I have gone mad. Lenin you are a bloody person! You have killed millions of people. Hiter! you are a hell ! You want to rule over the world, establish the supremacy of Aryan blood ! you are a murder, do you know? And I am a fool who is hanging your portrait in my Omen. Gandhi! Where are you? You talk about non-violence, you are great Gandhi! You are great!! When the world will understand the importance of blood? Little girl! Where are you? I want to make love with you. I will love you like your father loves you mother. But can you love me like my mother? Little girl ! come, come to me and love me. But now you are a growing woman, and you have no ability to love me like my mother. Do you know? My mother would love me very much. She had a cow, a small and milking cow, and she would herself milking the cow and gave me milk to drink. From morning till night she would work hard. I miss my mother…I miss my mother. Oh, I am weeping bitterly. Tears are coming from eyes constantly and I am relaxed now. Now I can understand the importance of tears.

Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.

Saturday, 5 April 2008

Some pages of a torn- diary (part 6)

(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)
22 May
I was called for the interview by the Institute of Journalism. I went there and saw a big crowd of boys, girls and there parents. Interview was to be started. I was given my number and asked to wait. In a group some boys were discussing over reservation issue. I listened them without interference. After a little while my name was called out. When I entered into the hall, I saw five persons sitting around a round table. I was offered to sit. One of them asked me, '' Why do you want to be a journalist? '' I answered, ''Mussolini was a journalist in his early age, and I am highly influenced by him, so why I want to be a journalist.''
''Do you believe in fascism? You are a fascist?,'' he asked.
''I do not believe in any ism? I want to fight for the common people. And I think journalism is the best means.'' Then I was asked to leave the hall. I do not know what will happen next. I am just waiting for the result.

24 May
I have come in contact with ultra leaders of Hinduism. They have invited me in there Sakha (branch). I am thinking to go there. Aggressive Hinduism movement is growing fast in my country .In order to understand the fundamental base of this movement I am looking for some authentic books. I have been suggested to read Dr. Hedgewar and Golvelker as well as Savarkar. What is Hinduism? What is the objects of Hinduism? These are the natural questions arises in my mind. Let me struggle with these questions in my own ways.

27 May
I have bought some books regarding Hinduism and reading them keenly. And I have also joined there Sakha. They do physical exercises and show high devotion to nationality. They always talk about the unification of India, Bangladesh and Pakistan. Sometimes they talk to demolish Bangladesh and Pakistan. They want to impose their already made ideas in my mind. When I try to discuss about the fundamental nature of Hinduism they become furious. How can I tolerate them? My mind is open for all the blowing cold and hot winds of the world. How I can allow them to impose their already made cooks? They are abusing Ambedakar, and I am going to read Ambedaker. He was the chairman of draft committee of the Constituent Assembly of Indian. I am not a blind man. I want to see the world through my own eyes.

29 May
I have taken admission in the Institute of Journalism. It was my first day. The administration of the Institute provided me I-card and all the related documents and I was asked to sit in the class. It was an interesting morning. When I entered into the class, I got there more than fifty students. A young professor, he is a well-known journalist, started teaching us. He was delivering his lecture about the history of journalism. After fifteen minutes I realized I could deal the topic far better than him. I stood up and asked the professor to allow me to teach the class. He was surprised to listen me. All the students looked to me. One of them supported me. He told the journalist to leave the place and requested me to come forward. Then I started teaching them. I explained very well about the history of journalism. All the students enjoyed my lecture very much. Meanwhile the professor left the class and went to the head of the Institute. The head came and asked me to take my place and he himself started teaching. Later he warned me, ''Mussolini, it is Indian, not Italy, so be careful in future.'' Now I have been a very popular personality among all students, I am enjoying this popularity. All the girl students are attracted to me. They want to talk to me. Perhaps my public life has started as young revolutionary man.

1 June
I always sit on the second bench in the class-room. A Muslim girl always sits besides me. She is a very tall and beautiful girl. I feel the charming smells of her body, and she knows it. Every day she changes the scents and I wait for this changing. She loves America too much and has a dream to go there one day. Although she does not talk to me directly but has an eagle eye to me. She changes her scent and I change my book everyday. In the class-room I read only journalistic books. Today I have finished ''Justice'' by kuldeep Naiyar. In this book he has written about the dark era of Indira Gandhi. The period of Emergency has been dealt in this book. He thinks that Sanjay Gandhi was the sole reason behind the emergency. After the emergency congress government was washed out from the North- Indian.

2 May
I am reading ''Professional Journalism'' By M. V Kamath. For fundamental knowledge of journalism it is a good book. The book deals the fundamental question of journalism –What is news ? –very well. When a dog bites a man, it is not news, when a man bites a dog, it is news. A student of journalism must read this book. In this book one will get all the technical words of journalism, and I am sure his news sense will develop. Two students are more interesting in the class room. Every day they come in the class after taking two or three pegs. Sometimes they drink in the class-room. One is very shot and other is very tall. The short fellow always tells, ''Without drinking, no one can be a great journalist.'' He seems like a devil.


3 May
There is a poetess in our class. She is a fan of most famous lyricist Niraj, better to say she is mad behind him. She has written a lot of poetries and always tries to recite them before the students. Her father is a well-known journalist. She is attracted to a romantic professor, who touched us news. He, too, is a well-known journalist and writer. He smokes too much and do not mind to offer it to his students. A group of students has become his great fan. Every day I come in the class room before all the students and on the black board a write a quotations of some great thinkers and men of action. Mostly I write Hitler's quotation. I have given a new name by our classmates ------''The wrath of Indian.''

5 May
Two girls in the class room are trying to make friendship with me. They are close friends and always live together. One is healthy and has round face. She is ultra modern and has a convent back ground while the other is short and looks like a village girl.The modern girl was asking about my zodiac sign. She tells me that she is a Leo. She is very impulsive and talks frankly to the boys. The village girl's mother is a teacher. She has yellow eyes, and I has read in '' the Kamsutara'' that the woman who has yellow eyes believes in multiple relationship and never mind to change her man partner frequently. I am constantly watching her.One day she tells me, ''in this class-room no boy has courage to take me up'' I do not understand the meaning of her words. Today both of them asked me to show them my best place in the city. Two other boys also joined them. A team of five members went to the bank of Ganges. When I saw the water I felt a strong desire to jump into it. All of them were sitting and chatting while I was swimming in the river. When I came out of the river, the round face girl gave me her Chunari (a clothe to cover the upper front part of a young woman). When I was washing my body with her chunari, I felt the warmth of her heart.

7 May
I have started reading ''Das Capital''by Marx. Its terminology is very hard to understand, but I am struggling hart with it. The two parts of the book has been written by Marx but the third one has been written and edited by his friend Engle. I love Engle more than Marx. Both Marx and Engle have explored a new world before me. There scientific approach to the history is excellent. Now I think that I understand Europe and its social, political, economical, religious and cultural set-up very well, at lest according to the scientific point of views. A new word ''surplus Value'' has been given by Marx. I am very much interested in his earlier life and get some excellent poetries written by Marx for his wife Jena before marriage. Jena was a wonderful lady. Marx was very lucky. I am sinking deep into the world of communism. It is interesting that one side I am reading communist literature and the other side I am going to a Sakha of fundamental Hindu organization. I am going through thesis, antithesis and synthesis process. I think my own worldview is being created.

9 May
Marx, Lenin, Engle, Jena, Krupskay, Hitler, Mussolini, Gandhi, Neharu, Sucrates, Aristotle, and many more come every night in my Omen and they discuss about the world's problem. They are very much comfortable in my hut. All are concentrated to me, They want me to follow there respective ideas and actions. I just listen them and ask them to convince me. My nights are more interesting than the my days. I have bought costly wine, cigret, cigar, tea and coffee for them. Hitler likes milk so every night I bring milk for him. Gandhi has a very humanistic approach while Marx is determined to change the whole system through a bloody revolution. Whole night they fight in my Omen, and I enjoy their discussion. I know I am in state of hallucination, but who cares? It is a great hallucination, and I love it. I am thinking seriously to meet a psychiatrist, all the big thinkers are trying to kidnap my mind. They are making too much noise. Let me enjoy these tremendous nights with all the world's leaders.

Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.

Thursday, 3 April 2008

Some pages of a torn- diary (part 5)

(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)

11 May
Today, in Pokhran Indian has tested its nuclear strength. The whole city is talking about it. I am very much depressed to listen the news. Arms-race is against humanity. The world does not need it, then why arms are being made all around, Why ? Why ?? and Why ??? OH ! My whole body is crumbling. It is 11 pm. I go to the bank of The Ganges. The dark sky spreads all around the river.Some fishersmen are sleeping on the sand. I sit and see the current of the river and try to understand the effect of the explosion. Will this explosion affect my lovely river anyway? If yes, all the policy makers must be removed. I opened my shoes, jeans and shirt and enter into the river and swim nearly half kilometer. Now I am in the middle of the river, feeling the excitement of the clod water. I just go deep and deep. And when I try to turn back, the current of the water pushes me away. Even I am unable to see the banks of the river, because all around there is a darkness. I see, some fire far away, and I try to swim in that direction. After half an hour, I come to the bank. It is a crematorium place. The fire is just coming from a burning dead body. I get there no one. I feel some coldness and sit besides the fire. I think deeply about the man's body that is burning before my eyes and the warm fire. What is death? Why we all are mad behind more and more power. King Harish Chandra was working in a crematorium, because he had donated everything, his wife ,his son and even himself, because he was a man of words.
Oh know I have to leave the place. But I have lost my all article, I have only one underwear over my body. I leave the place and move slowly to my Omen. I walk…walk… and walk. After two hours I come to my Omen. Outside Omen I have a hearty bath and then enter into it. I am naked, I do not want anything….I just want to write, write and write…and I am writing. My flowing words give me pleasures.

12 May
Today I have seen an advertisement of a college of Mass communication. I think I should take admission in it. Applications are being invited and I am going to apply for a seat. It will give me an opportunity to make my carrier in field of journalism. But I have to submit a draft of five hundred rupees. Now I have no money, anyhow I have to manage it. Let me think of it seriously. A journalist can serve the society through his writings.

13 May
Is it the heinous crime of my life? I know it is against law. Today I proposed the black girl's younger. She broke down to me and started weeping. I tried my level best to console her but she did not stop. When I said her that I was not serious about it, it was just a fun, she became furious and told me,'' you are older than me, so why I was hesitating to enter in your life. I always love you, I do not know what you want to me, but I will sacrifice my life for you.'' In fact I am afraid to see her passion and devotion. Somewhere I am feeling myself caged to indulge with her, but somewhere I am highly fascinated with her innocent love. She is too young, only thirteen years. Should I go ahead? I am little confused regarding her. She has promised to meet me soon, and with a little hesitation I am waiting for her. But I won't meet her, it would be better for both of us.

15 May
What a girl she is ! I am very much surprised. Today she has given me ''The Kamsutra'' by Vatsayan and asked me to read it thoroughly. It is a fascinating book, sexuality has been dealt in it very keenly. In this book the structures of women bodies has been explored according to the geographical condition of the country. I do not know these facts are scientific or not, but it has created my curiosity in women's bodies. Whenever and wherever I meet a woman, I watch her body very keenly in order to match it with the description of the book. Somewhere I am afraid of the little girl, she knows more about the adult's life and is very much interested to discuss with me. Let me read the book.

16 May
I do not understand the chemistry of woman and a man. Since Yesterday night I have been reading ''The Kamsutra.'' A lot of funny things have been written in this book, like how you choose your woman, how you communicate your self to her, how you understand her body language, how you know her ideas about yourself, how you use her closest friend to express yourself before her. In this book sixteen kinds of kiss and 64 positions have been mentioned. The little girl is a devil, I have to change my way. Certainly I have to change my way. Vatsayan is a hell! But it has created my curiosity in the love life man and woman. Let me change this book, otherwise it will make my mind dirty.

17 May
I am reading a book ''Lenin in London.'' Lenin was the most wanted person in Russia. He went to London with Krupskaya and preparing for the Russian revolution. There he would spent most of his time in National Library reading the ''Das Capital'' by Karl Marx and making notes. He was dead determined for the Russian revolution. Krupskaya was a teacher. She would love Lenin. She was very much supportive to Lenin. She was regularly corresponding with revolutionary leaders of Russia on behalf of Lenin. She was taking care not only of Lenin but also of his revolutionary activities. I am highly fascinated with krupskaya. In fact I fell in love with her. Is there any krupskaya for me? I want a lady like kurpskaya, will I get it? I do not think so. I have read an interesting story regarding Lenin. It is written by a secret agent of British Government. According to the story, he got an information that a meeting of Russian revolutionary leaders was to be held in a hotel. He went to the hotel and met the manager and asked him to provide a place so that he could listen the speech of all Russian leaders. Manager locked him in a cupboard where the meeting was to be held. When the meeting started he listen all speeches. After listening the speech of Lenin he was horrified, although he did not see his face. Latter he reported, ''Lenin is very confident about the revolution in Russia and what he has in mind is very dangerous for both Russia as well as the World.''

18 May
I went to the art college of the city to find out more and more details about the old painter. Once he was the principal of this art college. I met one of his old friends who remembered the old painter with his many good acts. But I felt that he was in a stress. Later I knew that a dog fighting was going on for the authority of the art college. Some students had been kicked off from the hostel. Naturally I took interest in all the matter and became very sad about the present condition of this art college. For a little while, I had been captured by the goons of the college authority. They are bad people and I hate them. Now I have to write all the details of the old painter and have to send it to the lady boss.

19 May
I have just finished ''Crime and punishment'' by Dostovesky. It depicts very well about the poverty of Russian. The psychology of the protagonist has been written in a very keen manner. He plans to kill the old landlady and he is very much confident that he is going to do a great work like Nepolian Bonapart as he is liberating the poor masses from the clutches of the old landlady. The Russian police tries to catch him but he plays with them a rat and cat game. Sonia! A teenage prostitute, who is compelled to do accept this dirty business, enters into his life and he fell in love with her. Later he accepts before her that he has murdered not only old landlady but also her sister. The life of Dostovesky has intoxicated me. He was arrested by Russian Government and was to shoot. Just before shooting he was released and for whole life the shadow of death covered his unconscious mind. Later he was appointed the adviser of Russian Government secretly and the main conspirator of king's murder was arrested in his house. I want to read Dostovesky's all works. I am highly interested in Russian History.

21 May
Today I met the painter girl. She was still angry with me. She told me that I was the most cruel person under the sky. She wanted to have a dinner with me, but I had no money in my pocket and I told about it to her. She realized that I was not only a wicked person but a cunning too. I asked her to lend me some money if she wanted to have a dinner with me. She was agree and both of us went to a nearby hotel. She was a non-vegetarian. After dinner she said that she wanted to see my Omen. I warned her, but she smiled and kissed me gently. Then both of us came back to Omen. She closed the door and came near to me. Again I saw the tears in her eyes. she told in a deep voice, ''Do you know? I cannot be a mother. I have some problem. Doctors have declared that I have lost the maternity power.'' I took her face in my hands and said gently, ''No matter, if you love me, I am ready to marry with you.''
''But you don't earn!'' she said.
''What do you mean by I do not earn?,'' I do not understand her words.
''Marriage is a responsibility while love is free. I love you, but I know you cannot be a good husband. My father is searching a suitable boy for me,''
'' I don't understand you. Sometimes you say that you have lost your maternity power and sometimes you say that your father is searching a suitable boy for you.''
''Why do you want to understand a woman while a woman does not understand herself? You do whatever I say.''
I was in state of bewilderment, so I said her politely to go to her home. Before leaving the place she hold me in her arms and kiss my lips gently. Still I am feeling her existence, and still I am confused about her character. To me, a woman is always a mystery, and so why I attract to a woman. Will I solve this mystery ever?

Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.

Wednesday, 2 April 2008

Some pages of a torn- diary (part 4)

(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)
25 April.
I am reading '' Ten days when the world shook'' by John Read. I am very much surprised to know that he was an American Journalist but was highly interested in Socialist Revolution all around the world. He was not only a reporter but a great revolutionary. This book depicts the real picture of all the groups of Russia, including Bolshevik. He was a dare devil journalist. I love his sprit. Someone has said about him ''If he were not a journalist, he would be a great novelist. And I do believe in his words. All young journalists must read this book. I am highly fascinated with his words and actions. Oh he died young, why? why?? why ??? Now I am thinking to read about all the revolutions of the world. From where I should starts?

26 April
I have joined the class, and teaching the students. I told him the whole story about my Delhi Journey, they enjoyed it a lot. I think that I am breaking the chain of their minds. Jean Jaqueas Russeau says, Man born free but every where he is in chain.'' I am trying my level best to break the chains. In fact I have started reading French Revolution of 1789. I have met Voltaire, Didrott, Robespeare, Mirrrabeu and many more. I love Bobeouf.
If you are young, do not jump deep into the French Revolution, it will catch your mind and you will be of no use. I have done this crime! I have done this crime!! and I have done this crime !!! To me, now articles of French Revolution are more interesting than the eyes of painter girl or black girl or any other girl. In fact I am highly fascinated to royal ladies like Mary Antoniot. What the hell my mind is functioning!


27 April
Am I converting into a revolutionary person? I have started evaluating all the things according to the revolutionary point of views. But my mind is not clear regarding, society and humanity. Social, political, economical, religious and cultural set-ups are unclear to me. Who will make my mind clear? Certainly books, books and more books.I will consume more and more revolutionary books. Let me find out them. Oh! I am mad behind the revolutionary books. Sometimes I think about the Delhi and the scene of the sleeping people with dogs and goats frustrate me. Certainly I don't want such India. I want neat, clean and strong India. How is it possible? At first I have to understand Indian. But how?


29 April
I am very much thankful to the younger of black girl who provides me the story of Spartcus. He was the first revolutionary who organized the salves and fought a brutal fight against the Roman Empire. I want to kiss the girl but she knows that some where I love her elder and she does not love me. No matter I will take an attempt, after all she understands me and my mind. Will she agree to give me a nice kiss? But I will tell her to wash her mouth first. My first kissing experience is not good. She is only thirteen years old, does she understand the dimension of a pleasant kiss? What the hell I am thinking!
Let me talk about Spartcus. I love her lady Varenia very much. Will I get a Varenia in my life? I love his lucky lady. I have to understand the Roman Empire and its slave system. India's ancient Varn system is similar to Roman's slave system ? I want to understand all the things. I have to read the religions of all the races, if I want to understand the origin of all the systems. It is a tough task but I will go ahead.

30 April
Today painter girl came to my Omen. She was looking beautiful. I laid down in her lap and she kissed me more and more. I was excited and lost my control but she stopped me saying, ''It is not good.'' I was furious and asked her to leave my Omen. I could see the tears in her big and beautiful eyes. She went away silently. I know I was cruel to her, but what could I do? I will ask for her forgiveness. Let me see what happens in this regard. I do not want to loose her. But why does she come to me when I am alone in my Omen? How can I control? After all I am a man? But still I accept it that I have insulted her.

1 May
May-day was being celebrated all around the city. I found out the story of May-day and got that it is related with America and American workers. I just went through the American Freedom Movement. America has an interesting story. I love George Washington and his struggle, but in American historical characters I love Abraham Lincon most. One of my friends provided me a poetry about Lincon. In which it was written that he became President of America when he was 65 years old. Before that he faced a difficult life, even his wife left him. He was a great personality and the nature had selected him for a great job, all the difficulties he had faced were just pre-determined by the nature. Hitler had calculated America in a scientific way. I will talk about it latter. I love the words of Jaffarson. Before death he has written his own epitome. He was great educationist.

3 May.
In a feet of frustration I proposed the black girl and as usual I was rejected. Shit! what I have done today ! Books are better than girls, at least its talk silently. I know, I know that my act is not good, after all she is my student. The painter girl is not coming to me. She is very angry. What should I do? Let me drink wine. But I have no money for drinking. Better I should read a good book, spiritual book. But I hate spiritualism. Spiritual emphasizes over feeling and some super-natural power. Is there any supernatural power? Or it is just an illusion? I know nothing about it. And whenever I try to know the truth, I feel myself nowhere.

5 May
Every morning a man comes to God Shiva's temple, and he prays more than two hours. His praying manner attracts me a lot. For last three years he is continue with his pray. I think faith is more powerful than scientific investigation. Scientific investigations only reveal the secrets of nature and its laws while faith is ultimate truth for a particular person or community. Both the strength and the weakness of Indian is faith. If one wants to understand India, one should understand the different faiths of its people. In this country everything is worshiped, both alive and non-alive objects. And people are not ready to arguments against there faiths. If one say anything against there faiths, they will listen seriously, but follow there own faiths. And this faith is source of life.

7 May
I have just finished ''Resurrection'' by Leo Tolostoy. It is a touching story. How the protagonist fights for his beloved who is arrested in a murder charge. When the protagonist meets her first time in his aunt home, he copulates with her. And after a long time he sees her in court, facing a murder charge. Now she is a prostitute. Oh ! I am very sad with the heroin of this novel. I think it is the best work of Leo Tolostoy. I have read ''War and Peace'' and all his dramas and stories but I like this novel most. One day I will write far better than Leo Tolostoy and create more wonderful characters with agony and happiness. But how? I have to read more and more, I will read, because I am born to lead my own era and no one can stop me to do so, no one means no one. And certainly I will not proclaim like Fredric Willhem Nietzshe, ''Day after tomorrow is mine.'' I will say , ''Today is mine and I will capture the tomorrow by dint of hard work.''

9May
Today I went to collect some material about the old painter.And I am surprised to know that all the paintings and portraits hanging in the state legislative assembly have been made by him. Now he is too old to walk. But when I went there he welcomed me. He has lost all his teeth, and has some difficulty to pronounce the words. In spite of it I sat with him more than two hours. He told me all the stories of his youth, and really I enjoyed his stories. The name of the painter is Rada Mohan Sahaye. His son, too, is trying to be a painter, I saw his painting but he is not up to mark. Art is not like a wealth that can be inherited from father to son.
I am thinking very seriously to propose the black girl's younger. Let me do it, I don't want to think about its consequence.

Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.








Tuesday, 1 April 2008

हिन्दी ब्लॉगर ने छुआ लाख का आंकडा

यह हम सभी हिन्दी ब्लागरों के लिए हर्ष की बात है कि एक हिन्दी ब्लॉगर ने एक लाख हित का आंकडा छू लिया है. हमारे लिए यह ज्यादा हर्ष की बात खास तौर से इसलिए है कि यह उपलब्धि हमने अपनी टांग खिचाई, बेमतलब सिर फुटौवल, अंधी गुटबंदी और ईर्ष्या-द्वेष की अपनी चिरंतन आदर्श वृत्तियों को बरकरार रखते हुए हासिल की है. अपनी मूलभूत परम्परा छोड़ कर तो बहुत लोग तरक्की कर लेते हैं, हमने यह उपलब्धि अपनी परम्परा छोड बगैर हासिल की है. इसी परम्परा को समर्पित है यह लिंक :

स्वागत है श्रीमान आपका भर-भर भरें बधाई·
कुछ तो मारा भ्रष्ट्राचार ने कुछ मार रही महंगाई
हम भी वही बनाते जो दशकों से बना रहीं आपको
कांग्रेस, भाजपा, सपा, बसपा, सीपीएम, सीपीआई

हैप्पी पहली अप्रैल

Some pages of a torn- diary (part 3)

(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)

14 April
Today was Sunday. The director asked me to go with a long drive. I am always fascinated with his driving skill, and specially with his motorbike. He has named it ''Gajraj'' Both of us covered nearly fifty kilometer, I was sitting behind him, and drinking bottles of bear one after another. It was an interesting drive.

16 April
It was a late night. And all of sudden I felt strong desire to see the Red Ford of our country. For last two days I had been reading about the story of Delhi. I had only two rupees in my pocket.I went to the Railway station, but was informed the that the last train of Delhi had left the platform. But my natural instincts were provoking me to leave This city as soon as possible. When I came out of the Railway station I saw a running bus. I ran after it without knowing what I was doing. I jumped over it. And within minutes I was on the top of the bus. I was alone there, all around, there was only boxes and beddings. It was a hot day, so I opened the buttons of my shirt sat down. AT first check post at he Gandhi Bridge, the driver noticed me and I was kick off the bus. Another railway station was waiting for me. I started walking. I just felt, I don't know it was my walking dream or reality, a black snake touched my feet and went away quickly. I saw the reflection of sleeping city in the Great river Ganges. I love this city and this river. This river is deeply related with the civilization of this country. It has a lot of mythical stories, I believe in all those stories. I have never seen the Tames of England and the Volga of Russia, but I am sure the Ganges is the most beautiful city under the sky, at least to me. I came directly to the another Railway station, and here I was informed that the train to Delhi was just come. Fortunately I have my diary at my hand, and my pen is flowing constantly over it. I know one day these words will make me immortal. The train has come and I am going to catch it. Remember I have only two rupees in my pocket.


April 17
The train is running very fast, and I am looking to the red Sun that is emerging far from under the earth. I know the universal truth that the sun is stable and all the planets are moving around it. I know that for this truth Gallilio had been compel to take back his words and latter he had to spend nine years in a dark a room and became blind. But still I want to use the literary truth not the scientific one regarding the Sun. I bow down before the sun. I am hungry and have nothing to eat. I have no ticket so I am forced to leave the train after six hours. It is a day time. I want to do some manual work so that I can earn and eat something. But wherever I go, people think I am a beggar because I have lost my shirt and slippers at the top of the bus. Really I am looking like a beggar. I have left the idea to earn and come back to the Railway station of the historical city, it is a heartless city, at least to me. Again I am waiting for the Delhi train. Oh my God! Heavy rains has started, and I am feeling cold. I search my pocket and gets only two rupees. Here life is difficult to me, but I enjoy it, because I have dream to see the Red Fort. The train comes and again I enter into it.


18 April
The train stops at the Old Delhi Railway Station. It is 3 am. in the morning. I walk very slowly and come out of the platform. I have not slept for two days. I want to sleep, but there is no chance. Just outside the Railway station, some people come to me and ask if I want to have a bed. But I have no money to afford a bed so say nothing, but just walks up. Then some police men come to me and inquire. I say them nothing. Then I am arrested and sent to a nearby Police station. More than twenty people have arrested that night. I am asked to sit among them. I sit silently. An officer asks me, ''Who are you, and from where are you coming? '' I simply say, ''I am a writer, I just want to see the Red Fort, so why I come here. I want to tell you very frankly that I have no ticket.'' He is surprised to listen me. Then he offers me some tea and biscuits. I take it. A lot of police men comes there and ask the arrested men to sing and dance. One of them starts singing and dancing, after a little while all of them, including some police men, starts dancing. I feel that I am the king of Delhi and my subjects are welcoming me. I enjoy it a lot, and I am sure no one under the sky has experienced such type of life, it is marvelous, it beautiful, it excellent and above all it is beyond any grammar. Oh! the page is finished, I have to uses another date.


19 April
After half and hour, the officer asks me to leave the place and he shows me the road that leads to Red Ford. I am walking. The yellow light is spread all around the road and I can see the Red Fort, although I have a long distance. Wow ! Super !! I am highly fascinated with the beauty of Red Fort, Under a lot of powers full light, all its dimensions are reflected. I feel that it is my Fort, and for a lot time it has been waiting for me. I am highly mesmerized to see it. When I come very near to it I see countless pigeons, sitting all around the Fort. I never like pigeon, I like only eagle and falcon. Someone calls me and I turn to the voice. I see an army man, coming towards me. ''You are going for toilet here. Go away. It is not the place for such work,'' he says loudly and I loose my control. ''I have come here only to see the Red Fort and you are saying me such words, Have you gone mad? '' Then and there he realizes that he has pronounced something wrong. Very soon he becomes my friend and asks me to stay with him. But I am not in mood to stay here so I go ahead. But he says ''If you do not get any proper place at night, must come here.'' When I come to a road, a little girl gives me a red rose without any words, and again I feel that I am the king of Delhi and my subjects are offering different thing in different ways. At a traffic post I get two slippers, and starts walking on. Rain has started again, but I do not want shelter. I just enjoy it as I think nature is very happy with me and it is leading me. I move slowly and see both sides on the road. Under the shops shutter countless people are sleeping, among them I can see dogs and goats. The life is hell here! Somewhere I feel a inner pain, how can we say that we as nation we are independent and civilized? Who is responsible for this life? Thinking such types of questions I go ahead. I feel the smell of blood of those innocent people who had been killed by Tamur Lang and his army. Again I have to use the next page, I mean next date.


20 April
The bus service has stated in the city and I have walked a lot. Now I am tired. I want some rest. I see a college in front of me, and I feel a strong desire to deliver my lecture here. I enter into the college. Students are moving here and there. I enter into a class room, full of students, and offer for my lecture. But the students think that I want some help. They start collecting money for me, but I refuse to accept it and tell them that I only want to deliver my lecture if you are interested. Meanwhile, a professor comes and asks me to leave the class, because it is his class. I leave the class and go to meet the principal. To him I request for a class but I am not allowed. I leave the place. All of sudden I remember one of my friends who is working in a daily mid-day newspaper. I start searching the office of the newspaper. After two hours, I enter into his office. He is surprised to see me and my condition. On the pone he talks about me to his lady-boss who asks him to take me there. With him I enter into her big house in posh locality. When she sees me she asks me to go to her little temple, made in her beautiful house. I say her that I do not want to see the God and she says quickly, ''But the God wants to see you.'' I go to the temple and see the Lord Ganesha. I sit there and feel the existence of God. She gives me a good shirt and five hundred rupees and asks me to do a work for her. She wants to cover the life of a prominent painter of my city for her production house. She asks me to do some research works regarding the painter. I accept her proposal, as I have no alternative. At night I stay with my friend. In her room, a meet his room met who is a young photographer. He drinks before me but does not offer. I feel a strong desire for drinking. Next morning, I catch the first train to my city. Of course before catching it, I buy a bottle of Vodaka. During the returning I drink furiously.


22 April
Oh! Again I am in my Omen, my lovely Omen! It seems like my mother to me. I can sing here and sleep here. I am tired badly, so I am going to sleep. I have still some Vodaka, Let me drink three pegs…or more.
…..continue

Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.