To You, and the Awesome Road Ahead

Dear PACH

To the basic first - you are awesome. Okay. You're more. You're a redefinition of awesomeness. People could call it vanity on my part, but then, between you and me, I can always say these things. You know its not vanity as much as disbelief, fondness, and then, some legitimate parental pride. With those love-filled, keen eyes, I am witnessing your growth - and when we last met, you left me speechless with all the grandeur. 

That's you, that's us

It had been long since you and I met. While writing this, I realized something funny, and strange. In your world, the serious can coexist with funny, the dull can coexist with bright, the silence can coexist with noise. Basically, you permit it all. And so, the funny thing I realized is, you feel like a kid, and a beloved, all at the same time. And you can, you totally can coexist in my head as both those entities. Its fun to see you grow each time we meet. Its fun to see me fall for you all those times, over and over again. You're plain awesome. Oh, but I already told you that. 

The 13th invite

Among the new things that I have to tell you, there is none. Except the fact that in our thirteenth tryst, you overshadowed all your previous manifestations. That's something you do. This time, however, was slightly different, for you led us to a time warp, within walls which echoed the most personal and priceless sentiments of a human heart. We met in a place where the bustle of city comes to rest, where the walls entice you to detach yourself from ordinary, hectic life,  and spends moments of intimacy with yourself. For me, personally, Ugrasen Ki Baoli is a place where I have seen melodies of life and relationships play out. In that sense, and in every other, this was a perfect venue for our rendezvous. 

The enchanting venue

When we arrived here, I and this other person who is equally fascinated and proud of you, but doesn't say it that often,  had already spent a beautiful morning in the company of Delhi's own genius poet, Mirza Ghalib. Having traversed the winding alleyways of Ballimaran and Kucha Pati Ram Gali, our poetic day began with the most traditional flavours greeting and refreshing us. Heritage and poetry often hold hands while walking. That morning, in a green-tinged haveli, I understood why. Urdu poetry, penned by the mighty quill of Ghalib himself, being read out in the space which was originally his, was an absolute treat for the senses. In the tiny metro ride from Chawdi Bazar to Rajiv Chowk, I mumbled this to myself - "Ragon mein daudte phirne ke hum nahi kaayal/ Jab aankh hi se na gira toh phir lahu kya hai". Essentially, I was carrying a little bit of Ghalib with myself, PACH - and so glad am I that he and his stories came to meet you too. 

Mulaqat-e-Ghalib

Our start was slow, remember? It was like a perfect winter morning waiting to come to life, but fighting to retain the lazy romance which is its ultimate marker of beauty. In no time, however, you attracted enough people to leave my forehead slightly creased. I remember exchanging that amused - not worried - glance with Anup, where we were basically puzzled to see so many of them climbing down the stairs of the stepwell to us, some perched on bliss, others on curiosity. It was a flock coming together, or what Neha Bawa prefers to call her tribe. 

Same emotions, different expressions. 

Facing our poets, who double up as the audience. 

She was one of the earlier ones to open up, with two poems letting out stifled emotions. I was moved enough to share my own. Somewhere in this rush of poetic energy, a few new, yet recognizable faces greeted us - and they added a greater hue of grandeur to our last poetic tryst. A short introduction to Parveen Shakir and to feminism in Urdu poetry was given to us by Rana Safvi - a shayra herself. In her tone, she carried authority as well as the affection of an elder. I could've gone on listening to her. Asif Khan Dehlvi, the master storyteller from Delhi Karavan, was waiting in the wings, to regale the gathering with anecdotes about Zauq and Ghalib's rivalry. Vikramjit sir's presence, coupled with DJ's much awaited entry to the PACH scene - it all added up beautifully to kickstart the last mehfil of 2013. 

Asif, in full flow

Rana ma'am - adding the feminist touch

Six paragraphs down, I am still at the kickstarting phase. We're both crazy when we talk to each other, and I am crazy about the craziness you are. Each new face which came in went back feeling they've known us for long. There were rockstar performance by Anup and Kamal - their poems having become a part of the very fabric of PACH. Vaibhav combined Chemistry and Poetry into a product where each couplet led to applauses. Rohit developed a single innuendo to persuasively propose to you, PACH - because for him (as for me) meeting you was akin to falling in love. Amrit left us a little stunned when he recited and recounted numbers in his poem written over a train journey. Aaqib's shayari worked backwards, but still found the perfect route to enter our hearts. Himadri's nervousness made her endearing, but I kept wondering why would a poet as sensitive and sensible as her would be scared to share her creations with us. Taru recollected a painful friendship; so did Vaishali. Anirudh, the videshi-chhora, came back to take us through realizations which hit a person in the process of growing up, or becoming a man. Sonalika di spoke for womanhood, spoke for compassion. Archana asked for Neha's voice to express what was personal and sacred, and painful too. Nabila, Rudra, Dipali, Karan, Shiva, Varun, Akhil - so many names and faces shared so much with us that it is impossible to recollect it all here. Still, PACH, do you know why I take out time to share it all, minute by minute, feel by feel with you? Well, its my way of prolonging the best time life sends my way. I am that kind of a romantic, you see. 

We were much more than what you see here

Someone called us the convenors of all this madness. We're a little mad ourselves, you see. 

My favourite moment from the last meet was when sir (whom we know as Aastha di's sir) took out time to introduce us to God and his mysterious ways, which are incomprehensible to a mortal's brain. He also, then, introduced us to the magic that Aastha di herself is. I did tell you I love her, right? And also that she is the most precious gift PACH, you, have brought for me? Well, after the poem I wrote and recited for her, you would know! She knows, but its the kind of love which I wanted the world to know of. Again, thats precisely the kind of romantic I am, you see. You're grand, that you let me be. 

Aastha di and sir

Lines just rhyme these days. Music is what you hear in Yogesh ji's poetry, which chugs amidst the mundane faces found in a metro. Melody is what is encased in Pratibha's poetry - who decorates you with words which cause my heart to well up. A marriage of music and melody is what it is like to see Pratibha and Yogesh descend the stairs with gorgeous smiles on their faces. Music, which is soft and lilting, is what you are, PACH. Harmony is when all the diverse voice which make you come together to celebrate poetry, and to celebrate life.  

The official, first PACH couple

Having told you this much, I am far from being done. We paused for a bit, bidding adieu to the beauty that had hosted us, only to huddle on the roadside to lend our ears to the remaining poets. Huddling and cuddling were on our agenda the entire wintry afternoon, if you remember. It was happyfying to hear an elated Sudhanshu, admitting to have found inspiration in his own verses. A cute Aavika, with usual reluctance, poured love in our hearts with her soft lyrics. Shruti, more than anything, left me flabbergasted with her vocabulary, and the dexterity with which she juggles words. Navin ji, the master performer, displayed yet again why he is multiple leagues above us all. Anurag, hmm, is a kid who overwhelms me so much that I often forget his words - thats just my connect with him. Ekansha chose Faiz above her own words - and I was glad that after Parveen Shakir and Mirza Ghalib, another Urdu poet became a part of our gathering. My own, personal, favourite surprise was when Supriya (whom I like calling #DilliKiBilli) decided to share an old piece of poetry with us. More prized, however, were her reactions to the other poets, which are what led to multiple, enthusiastic discussions about you in Kunzum. You, PACH, are just hitting it off big with people. Take my word. 

The written word

Aunty, with Aafreen!

In the most comfortable embrace, I recited and ended our journey through 2013, with sparkling hopes in my heart to see 2014 become an even more liberating, surprising, elevating celebration of poetry and life. Did I already say that earlier? Well, again, it fits. You, and I, have come to a happy place. You, and I, and all of us together. You are among the most satisfying of my experiences. You infuse pride, sure, but then, you're humbling too. When I look back at this one-day-over-half-a-year we've spent together, nurturing and caring for each other, I feel a certain amount of nostalgia. Why nostalgia? Because you are the best thing to have happened to me in a long time. Years and years hence, I shall be talking about you to my grandchildren, with sketchy details, perhaps, but all the correct emotions. You are a toddler, whose pace of growth, honestly, is a little scary. But then, we're in it, together. I'm writing to you, but will you mind terribly if through this letter, I also thank each single person who has ever supported us in the smallest of manners? You're grand, and innocent. I think you would want to be with me in thanking them all. 

Happy 'half year old' PACH!

Its a flood of fond emotions, but its just the beginning. And when I mention beginning, I instinctively thank Anup. He conceived you, you know - so you technically began in his head. But about these endless words of gratitude, he knows much now. 

Happiness and hope

And so, dear PACH, I wish you a happy, fulfilling and thrilling New Year. You flow in my head right now like a mesmerizing background melody. You set me free. In your own, unique, magical way. As a last confession - you've made me grow fonder of myself - and this, I value, beyond everything else associated with you. 

Much love.
Saumya. 

All the awesome people!

PS - I am so full of you, and you're coming back, so soon? Oh, PACH. You just know how I like being loved best :) We meet again, Sunday, 12th January.

In my happy zone

"Ek Baar Phir" - Guest Post by Sidhant Mago

Ek bench.. park mein bench

Hari ghaans, khadi ghaans

Aage sadak..thodi kadak

Sakht sa waqt

Thandi hawa

Khayalon ki umas ki dawa

Kaise bhool gaya, kohra bhi tha

Ya nahi tha..

Ya mujhe laga ki..tha

Kyun main bench par

Paer ghaans par

Aur hawa ke sahaare

Us dhundhle kohre ke beech se

Meri or ek chehra...

NAHI aaya

Ek ghar..furnished ghar
Rocking chair...aage peechhe
Ek carbon paper

Khamoshiyon ke neeche
Chhapa bhi kya, ehsaas?
Ghadi theek thi, samay par
Khidki par os thi
Ya nahi thi

Ya mujhe laga ki...thi

Kyunki main chair par jhoolta

Chair ghadi ke pendulum si jhoolti

Aur us carbon paper ko hataane

Us khidki se os ko mitaane

Achanak se ek haath...

NAHI aaya

Sewaiyaan thi... mannatein thi

Jannatein thi... namaaz thi

Kuchh haath soch hi rahe thi

Aur kuchh already mil chuke the

Kuchh gale jhuk hi rahe the

Aur kuchh already mil chuke the

Ek masjid... jo door thi

Par yaad hai?

Woh rota hua bachcha?

Woh paas tha

Ya nahi tha

Ya tha

Ya mujhe laga ki...tha

Toh maine bhi wahi kiya

Hasa diya

Par phir un sewaiyon ke saath

Woh gala aur woh haath

Us bachche ko hasaate

Eid aayi... par mera yaar

NAHI aaya

About the author - 

Sidhant Mago is known to the world as Shanky, and to me, he is known as one of the best persons to

have ever stepped on this planet. And I mean it. He is one of those people whose company guarantees unlimited laughter, for humour is his forte. More often than not, you'll be taken by surprise at the kind of wit his very general comments contain. However, the thing about him which impresses me most are his perspectives - on life, on love, on friends, on society - and on every other conceivable thing. Within him is contained an inexhaustible reservoir of creativity, which has many, varied manifestations  - mostly funny, non-serious stuff, or what he proudly calls 'cheap humour'. But then, there is this side to Shanky's creativity too, reproduced here with his permission. And what better day than today to share this poem, which takes one to the melancholy behind a celebratory day.

To all reading this, Eid Mubarak!

And special wishes for Aaqib Raza Khan, whose beautiful photographs have adorned my blog-posts time and again. 

This one falls among my favourite of ARK clicks.

Green Is The Colour!

Have you heard of a strange phenomenon where a predator befriended its prey? I am forgetting the minute details, but it so happened in a recent incident somewhere in  theinterior hinterland of India that a wolf, who, while pursuing his quarry, a goat, fell into a deep ditch along with it. Rather than attack and devour his now confined prey, the wolf and goat were found in a perfectly amiable condition by surrounding villagers the next day. My fantasy guess is, the wolf and the goat might’ve helped each other find a way out. Anyway, truth is self-preservation took precedence over hunger qualms. The animals ‘adapted’.

All animals, with the glaring exception of homo sapiens, have learnt the art of perfect harmonious cohabitation with animate and inanimate elements of their surroundings. Even a lethal carnivore would not hunt for pleasure’s sake; if satiated, he would allow without care for a whole herd of prey to pass by. So have discovered animal behavioral scientists. Even our ancestors had practiced and advocated harmonious coexistence with nature. For them, each animal, even plants were a part of the larger family order Providence itself has ordained for us. However, somewhere during evolution, our very race lost touch. In a bid to prove our mental (intellectual) superiority, we became the predators hell bent upon feeding on those very constituents of Nature which caused and sustained our existence.

Sustainable Development is one of the key governance issues which each government across the world has to deal with both at a macro and micro level. I understand the ‘janta’, masses form an indispensable component of any country’s democratic set up, considering just democracies for the time being. The definition of public is not confined to their role and responsibility as the electorate. That is to say, our act on the democratic stage does not end with casting our vote. It goes beyond, and extends up to the point where we adopt the character of a citizen who acts responsibly in all spheres of life. Sustainable Development, growth while preserving resources so as not to encroach upon the endowments of future generations, as a concept encompasses many nuanced, technical aspect which the government has routinely been failing at throwing enough light on. In the same sphere, civil society activists have been doing a remarkable job of protecting, preserving and propagating awareness about what is our natural heritage.

However, these scribbles are not to lambast the government for what is another possible area of policy paralysis. Or of yawning gaps between policy and practice. We, as a nation, pride upon on our vast and diverse resource rich state. Scant do we pay regard to the possible problem that are woven into the fabric of that very diversity. Our country is such where the topography changes every ten steps (little exaggeration, if you permit please), and cultural identities and practices change sooner. Talking of curbing carbon emissions at a global stage is one thing; developing action plans for what could be a major problem plaguing just one sequestered area in a nondescript corner of our country quite another. Take the example of the Ladakh valley, where environmental problems are a particularly new phenomenon, caused largely due to the massive influx of tourists in the area. Now, since Leh-Ladakh are not playgrounds from which political gains could be usurped, regards paid to the local issues of this place which boasts of having evolved its own specialized gene pool are nothing more than mere lip service. Consequently, the onus for preservation and prevention falls on indigenous population and motivated volunteer groups.

That aside, environmental preservation is one area of activism all of us can partake in, even within the smug confines of our home. Let not shifting responsibility become a favorite sport as far as concerns of or dwindling resources go. I’m sure most of us reading this article would be conscientious, educated, and liberated people doing their bit for the environment. April 22 is celebrated as the Earth Day each year, the concept pioneered by John McConell, and crystallized by U. Thant, former Secretary General of United Nations. What better time can you find to heed the call of Mother Nature for protection? Do me a favour. Choose one from the below listed many pledges which are simple to observe and healthy to adopt as permanent practices in the interest of our depleting ecology. I think I am going to stick to most of them, and more.

I pledge to translate Earth Day messages to local language and spread them among as many as I can.

I pledge to use paper carefully and responsibly and motivate others to do the same.

I pledge to become the Electricity Nazi at home and ensure that no wastage occurs under my nose.

I pledge to celebrate my birthday (which is around the corner) by planting a tree.

I pledge to celebrate birthdays of my friends by gifting them saplings.

I pledge to reduce the consumption of plastic unless where absolutely indispensable.

I pledge to never, ever, ever, ever litter anywhere I go, even if the place seems like a garbage dump already.

I pledge to not find it below my dignity to be corrected on practices against the environment and assume responsibility for undoing potentially harmful actions of mine.

I pledge to make environment a bigger cause in my heart and mobilize support for the same.

I pledge to never give into practices like smoking which harm not just me, but also others and the environment through a passive route.

I pledge to use public transport as much as possible.

I pledge, particularly me, to read up on green legislations and green social sector initiatives so that I can call myself a green literate before I go onto spilling gyan about green practices to others.

Image Source - Aaqib Raza Khan photography. 

Picture Perfect - November

For this month, I am sharing the picture which remained my wallpaper for most of the month. I clicked this in early October, on one of my unique visits to Ajmer; unique because this trip signalled the close of a significant chapter in my life, it signalled the loss of someone very dear to me. Since I was a little kid, I have been visiting Mayo College - one of the best known institutions of our nation, where many a film-stars and politicians have accessed knowledge from - and I have always been enamoured by the pristine surroundings and the heritage buildings which define this place. I used to go their in summer holidays to visit my mamaji. The laidback, calm, and inviting warmth of my mamaji's house within this residential campus form few of my most prized memories of childhood. With mamaji, I gained knowledge of Hindi literature, of food and of Hindi cinema. He was the one who introduced me to Premchand, cheese omelettes and Manna Dey. All that love, care, guidance, unfortunately, is no longer with us. Mamaji left us, left this world sometime back, and I think it will take some more time before a lot of us accept the magnitude of loss we have suffered. I don't think I have been able to accept it till now. 

Wiping those tears away, here is my fondest click of the year - the building which Mamaji introduced me to, and which remains my definition of grandeur. 

Awe-inspiring