inspiration II

when i openned my cupboard i had since i was 8,
in the smell of the old clothes folded with nepthalene balls since ages,
when i openned the windows of the room,
in the smell of the rain falling on the dust of the panes,
when i openned my books, no, ran my hands through them
in the smell of the flipping pages now yellowed with time,
when i openned the doors to walk through the rooms,
in the smell of the li'l moist walls and smile of the pictures they made,
when i openned my mouth to eat all that had been prepared in my honour
in the smell of the lemon, the bamboo shoot, the rice... the kitchen,
when i openned my arms and stood tiptoe on the roof
in all the river, the air, the roads, the soil and the grass that went in,
when i openned my heart to the sounds of them and more,
in all the invitations that cooed in my ear, in all the 'welcome backs' they said
when i openned my eyes to look at her sleeping with me engulfed
in the smell of her soap, her hair, her breath, her smiling sleep... in maa..
i found home... and i found inspiration...

inspiration 1

when hope was lost
and faith astray
when life was dead
and death in light's hay
when the smiles were gone
and tears ruled
when blessings were empty
and curses drooled
with black clouds above
when the sky was dark
when graves had opened
where the lightning had struck
when the sun had set
on all civilizaton
i found you and
found inspiration

i feel for both the soldiers...

Some days back, the Hindu reported the 'celebration' of the slaying of 76 CRPF soldiers in JNU. I read the piece and sat back staring at the ceiling for at least 15 minutes. i wondered, what is wrong with us? Us... not the JNU community, not the student community, not the men or the women... us, as in the human beings. why have we divided the world and shoved each of the halves forcefully behind a dividing line whose foundations run deeper in the psyche than in reality- the state and the people. where one wins, the other has to lose, there is no other way out... no peace for those who see this dividing line and want to bring it down. such people are termed 'neutral', 'devil's advocate' and sometimes even 'dead'. in these 15 minutes, i wondered- when did we evolve so much? so much that the thought of 'celebrating' the death of men on duty or even accusing someone of such an act became less hideous even in imagination than in reality? why do we forget that each man on duty has a family. and so does each of the naxalites, maoists or any of the insurgents fighting. are't they men on duty too? don't they have a cause too? why is their cause any lesser? or why is their death not 'shahadat'? aren't they both soldiers? am i wrong if i feel for both of them? when did we make our own personal Berlin's wall so high and mighty that we couldn't see or hear the pain of the thousands fighting everyday for something that is rightfully theirs- their land, their home, their wages, their families, the basic human right of security, tolerance and love, against people not very different from themselves? when and how did the barriers around our comfortable couches become so proof of the pain of the wife who's husband promised to come back for Bihu, only to be accompanied by his coffin? why have we become so numb that when we see her pain we refuse to see the one of the many in villages all over Jharkhand, West Bengal and Bihar where such stories happen every day? why is it so that we have to choose sides? why has human life so lost its meaning that it now belongs either to the 'state' or the 'people'? why can't i cry for the jawan who wrote in his diary about his undying love for his beloved and died the next day in a maoist attack and for the look in the eyes of the 14 year old girl who picks up the AK 47 to avenge her rape, murder of her father and the snatching of her family's land? why am i termed 'neutral' when i feel so strongly for both? doesn't life have any meaning? a meaning that transcends the barriers, the wall, the boundaries that us humans have created around it? and pray, tell me... when did death become a matter of celebration?