“ये लाइन आगे क्यों नहीं बढ़ रही?”
बिजली विभाग का आफिस था| बाहर इतनी लम्बी लाइन थी कि मंदिर के बाहर भी क्या होती होगी! विभाग की इमारत इतनी जर्जर अवस्था में थी, मानो कह रही हो,”अब मेरे दिन पूरे हो गए है , काशी छोड़ आओ मुझे|” महीने की १५ तारीख थी- बिजली का बिल भरने का आखिरी दिन| सभी बेचैन हो रहे थे| लेकिन क्लर्क साहब थे कि लोकपाल पर सरकार के रवैये कि तरह सुस्ती से काम कर रहे थे| जो बिल भर लेता वो चेहरे पर राहत और गर्व के साथ किसी विश्व विजेता टीम के कप्तान की भाँति बाहर निकलता|
वर्मा जी तभी अन्दर घुसे| नया घर बनवा रहे थे सो बिजली विभाग में दरख्वास्त ले कर आये| चारों ओर सोनपुर के मेले की तरह भीड़ थी| कुछ समझ नहीं आ रहा था कि कहाँ, किससे पूछना है| सामने से खाकी कपड़े पहने, हाथ में फाइल लिए आता एक कर्मचारी दिखा| वर्मा जी ने कहा “एक्स्क्यूज़ मी !” वह बगल से निकल कर दूसरे कमरे में घुस गया| वर्मा जी मेले में खोये बच्चे की तरह फिर इधर-उधर देखने लगे|
उन्होंने काउंटरों की ओर देखा कि शायद कोई ‘सहायता केंद्र’ दिख जाये| लेकिन हर तरफ केवल थके, परेशान, असहाय लोग ही दिखे|
हर बैठे क्लर्क के पास ढेर सारे लोग खड़े थे| वह कर्मचारी फिर एक कमरे से बाहर निकला| जैसे प्यासे को सरोवर मिल गया हो ,वर्मा जी उसकी तरफ बढे …
“सुनिए !” वह फिर तेजी से दूसरे कमरे में घुस गया| ट्रेन छूटने सा चेहरा लेकर वर्मा जी फिर इधर उधर देखने लगे|
वह कर्मचारी फिर किसी कमरे से सहसा प्रकट हुआ और सामने के कमरे में विलुप्त हो जाने की प्रक्रिया में लग गया| वर्मा जी ने उसके कंधे पर हाथ रखकर पूछा “अरे रुको तो भाई ! कुछ पूछना है| अफसर साहब का दफ्तर कहाँ है? यह दरख्वास्त देनी थी|”
“अपोइन्टमेन्ट है ?” उस कर्मचारी ने ‘अगर दहेज़ के पैसे नहीं दिए तो बरात लौट जाएगी’ के लहजे में कहा |
“नहीं मुझे पता नहीं था कि दरख्वास्त जमा करने के लिए भी अपोइन्टमेन्ट लेनी पड़ती है|” वर्मा जी ने लड़की के पिता जैसी असमर्थता व्यक्त की | “अपोइन्तटमेन्ट होगी तो अभी साइन हो जायेगा| कल तो बड़े बाबू विदेश जा रहे हैं |”
“कब तक आयेंगे ?” वर्मा जी ने पूछा |
“१५ दिन बाद आयेंगे|”
“तो २० दिन में साइन हो जायगा न ?”
“हूँ ! उन्हें और कुछ काम नहीं है क्या ? कितनी फाईलें पेंडिंग हैं| उन्हें पूरा करना है|”
“तो उन फाईलों के बाद तो मुझे एनओसी मिल जायगा न ?”
“ऐसे कैसे मिल जायगी ? आपको पटवारी का प्रमाण पत्र लाना होगा कि जमीन आपकी ही है| कब्जे की हुई तो ? फिर हमारे कुछ लोग निरीक्षण के लिए जायेंगे | देखेंगे कि आपने वायरिंग ठीक से तो करवाई है न| कहीं आपके इलेक्ट्रिशियन से कोई गलती हुई हो तो? फिर ये चेक किया जायगा कि आपके घर की कुल बिजली खपत कितनी है ? सबकुछ सरकार के उचित मानदंडों के अनुसार तो है? बिजली का मीटर ठीक से लगा है या नहीं| वह आईएसाई प्रमाणित है या नहीं|”
“इसमें कितना समय लग जायगा ?”
“यही कोई तीन-चार महीने| सरकारी विभाग है भाई| सब फालतू थोड़े ही बैठे हैं|”
यह बोल कर वह एक नाराज़ सास की तरह चला गया |
लाइन में खड़े एक व्यक्ति ने वर्मा जी से पूछा ” क्या हुआ ? बड़े परेशान दिख रहे हैं ?” “दो महीने में बेटी की शादी है| नया घर बनवाया है| ये लोग कह रहे हैं कि तीन-चार महीने बाद बिजली आएगी| मेरे पास तो अपोइन्टमेन्ट भी नहीं है |”
“भाई साहब वो ऐसे नहीं सुनेगा| बिना चढ़ावे के तो भगवान् भी नहीं सुनते| उसे कुछ पैसे दे कर मना लीजिये न कि आज ही अफसर साहब से साइन करा के एक -दो दिन में एनओसी बनवा दे| नहीं तो बहुत समय लग जायेगा| आपको परेशानी होगी सो अलग|” उस सज्जन ने अनुभव और सहानुभूति के साथ कहा |
वर्मा जी ने पास कि दीवार पर लगे गाँधी, नेहरू, बोस आदि के चित्रों को देखा| ” पर यह तो गलत है न?” ” बेटी की शादी का सवाल है| क्यों मुसीबत मोल लेना?”
यह साधूक्ति काम कर गयी और वर्मा जी की संस्कारों के बोझ तले दबी आँखें खुल गयी| वह कर्मचारी फिर एक तरफ से आया| वर्मा जी फिर उसके पास गए और बोले,”भाई अपोइन्तटमेन्ट तो नहीं है, कुछ सेटिंग करा दो| मेरी बेटी की शादी है|”
“देखो सर, वैसे तो यहाँ नियम-क़ानून से काम होता है| लेकिन आप आदमी अच्छे दिखते हो और फिर बेटी की शादी की बात है, तो मैं कोशिश करता हूँ| वैसे उसकी शादी की ‘मिठाई’ के लिए ‘कुछ’ दीजिएगा ज़रूर|”
“जी हाँ हाँ| क्यों नहीं |”
और फिर वर्मा जी एक बलि के बकरे की तरह कसाई के साथ चल दिए |

पन्ने खड़खड़ाने की आवाज़ में
शब्दों के खो जाने जितना,
नींद ना आने पर भी
आँखें बंद करे रखने जितना,
चकनाचूर होना, पर
बिखरने ना देने जितना,
बार-बार हार, फिर भी
सपने देखते रहने जितना,
यकीन मानिये, भटकना भी
उतना ही ज़रूरी था,
जितना संम्भल जाना.

ज़िद थी बचपन से,
नया काम नए पेज से.
पर नयी शुरुआत?

उनके प्रति,
जो लिखते समय डायरी में
सपना सच होने की बात,
मिटा देते हैं तारीखें.
जब सपने इकठ्ठे किये थे,
तब भी तो नहीं लिखी थी तारीख!

जो गुनगुनाते हैं, चुप हो जाते हैं,
नहीं तोड़ पाते हैं बंधन
और चाहकर भी नहीं कर पाते हैं विश्वास
सुखद अंत वाली कहानियों और फिल्मों पर
कि भगवान जाने.
और अब,
भगवान पर भी भरोसा नहीं है.

जो रचते हैं समय, यादों के सहारे
और भूल जाते हैं
कि यादें भूलने से बनी हैं.
जितना भूलो, उतनी ज्यादा यादें…

उनके प्रति,
जो खोजते हैं स्वयं को
झिलमिल प्रतिमानों के बीच.
और स्वयं से शून्य तक
और बसा लेते हैं नए चरित्र.
जो अभी पुराने हैं,
कल तक शायद नए हो जायेंगे.
कि ये धरोहर, स्मृति, रंगमंच
पर्दा, प्रेरणा और पटकथा
और उनका किरदार
उतना ही ज़रूरी था,
जितना कि भटकना.

Submitted for the RKB Bhawan Day Wall Magazine – a satire on the theme ‘Kalrav’ (chirping).

In life, it’s the little things that matter. Yes sir, no matter how big someone gets, it’s always the little things about him that make all the difference. And why just people? Even villages come of all sizes – from the very-big-and-important to the where’s-that. So when Harak Singh, the local MLA that Larkana had been voting for the last couple of decades, finally decided to show himself at the village, the villagers knew that they did matter at last.

Most people would call Larkana a dot. Yes, a dot – on a map. Somehow, the people who make maps seem to know which places should get nice and big circles and which ones should get an imperceptible dot. But on that hot day in May, with elections round the corner, Larkana’s dot had erupted in red. No, it wasn’t global warming but the people warming up to the local wing of the Assembly Party (they’re not sure what its real name is). As a reward for voting for the same MLA for the last forty years without ever knowing what he even looked like, the Party decided to hold a rally and needed its local members to organize a huge crowd.

Well, in a village of 500 people, huge certainly takes on another meaning. The last time people were this excited was when their village cow had won a beauty contest, only to be disqualified when someone realised that it was actually a bull! Even the birds had chirped out loud at that one! But to make Harak Singh happy, this one had to be big – men, women, bulls, and goats… maybe even that scary lady in the old hut – they all had to be there.

And the task of organizing this huge rally fell on Kishan and Sajjan, two of the finest products of India’s education system, both with diplomas from a very reputed college and an infinite supply of free time. Together, they were the backbone of the Party in Larkana – in fact, they were the entire skeleton! This was their chance to make Harak Singh happy and make it big in politics.

But the problem was that, no matter what they did, the village had too few people to make the rally a grand success. This called for desperate measures. In the 1960s, Indira Gandhi was forced to import food when grains were in short supply. Today, these two brave souls decided to import people. A grand strategy if there ever was one! But then, how do you get thousands of people to come to a tiny village and listen to an unknown politician talk?

They tried several things – they went to the village pradhan and tried to bribe him. Sadly, he felt offended at being bribed for so little and had them thrown out of the haveli. They decided that honesty was the best policy and asked the sarpanch to send people for the rally. He offered to send someone to sell peanuts. Frustrated, they tried to scare people into believing that all those who failed to show up would not get electricity anymore – an unlikely scenario when there was no electricity at all!

And then, the idea fell on them from a tree. True, they were not Newton and there was no apple tree there either. But there were the local birds, as gossipy as every human there. When Sajjan and Kishan sat under a tree to rest, they heard this particularly delightful tune from a chirping avian – and that’s when Sajjan hit jackpot.

“Let’s tell people that Michael Jackson is coming!”

It was brilliant beyond comparison – if you can’t win ‘em, fool ‘em! They decided to start with Sheetal aunty, the gossip-queen of the village. Well, it was easy to convince her that Michael Jackson was coming; the hard part was to tell her who he was. Just saying he was a singer wasn’t enough – aunty herself had exceptional singing abilities, mainly of the thande-thande-paani-se-nahana-chahiye variety. But tell her that he had gone from being dark to pearly white and you had her in the bag! Now, they just had to sit back and watch.

Kings of yore used chirping birds to carry messages – the birds were specially trained to chirp tunes that could be deciphered. In this case however, they did not need birds: they had Sheetal aunty and boy, did she chirp! Within days, the entire village knew that Michael Jackson was coming – but they were still unsure who he was. Aunty thought that he had perfected the art of mixing besan and doodh for a white complexion, but the halwai understood that to mean that he was an ace with sweetmeats.

But since he came from Amrika, the local baniya concluded that he must be a shrewd businessman to run such a successful trade selling sweets. The schoolboys were excited to hear that – maybe he would bring some imported chocolates for them? Their chatter was caught by the older girls, who concluded that any firangi with chocolates and money must be adorable. They went to the witch doctor for some love potions, which made the befuddled man to believe that the most handsome man in the world was coming. That was bad news for the ladies’ man from school, who decided to setup an illegal weapons factory (OK, it was just cricket bats – they could play once they were done) to counter the impending challenge.

The chirping birds carried the news of Michael Jackson’s arrival to other villages too. It was shocking, really, to hear that Larkana was going to be visited by the world-famous Kabaddi player Michael Jackson, given that most men there were too scared to play the sport anyway. So they decided to send their entire Kabaddi team to welcome him and save the community’s izzat from the lazy Larkanans. With them would go their families – we Indians love our family values, after all.

And so, one by one, all the villages nearby signed up to send a delegation to the rally. Everything was set – the stage was ready, Kishan had managed to get hold of a microphone from a middleman in exchange for some PDS rice. Now, all they needed was Michael Jackson. Shocked at having missed out on this little detail, the two decided to forget about it – Harak Singh’s charisma would fill in for the missing superstar.

And then came the big day. People gathered by the hundreds to witness the Ghazal singer from abroad. And then they saw it at last – a little jeep racing through the dusty road. It was a miracle to see motorized transportation in Larkana! Prayers were made to various gods and goddesses for Harak Singh’s well-being as the octogenarian disembarked from his rath and climbed onto the stage in just enough time for chhotu to finish the laddus that the halwai had brought.

He started his speech – it was as though a cool breeze was blowing in summer; as though Digvijaya Singh has chosen to go on a maun vrat. For, try as they might, nobody was able to hear what he was saying. You can bring a microphone to an old man, but you can’t make it work for him – certainly not without any electricity. So, as Harak Singh spoke about bijli, sadak aur makaan, the villagers were busy trying to decide whether he could actually have climbed Mt. Everest as Satpalji had heard.

Eventually though, what caught everybody’s attention was a pair of mynahs engaging in jugalbandi on a banyan tree. The vast branches, the cool shade and the wonderful music from the duo enlivened the atmosphere. Halwaiji set shop as Sheetal aunty decided to turn the duo into a trio; a little game of cricket started in the corner, with the girls cheering the ladies’ man on. When he was out for a duck, the witch doctor was ready to revive the love-struck girl who fainted on the front row.

Larkana danced to a different tune that day. From being enamoured by a faceless MLA for decades, they were won over by two chirping birds. Oh, how the political equations change so easily! As for Sajjan and Kishan, they decided to split from the Party and were busy deciding which of the two mynahs should stand for the upcoming elections.

All was well, that hot summer’s day in Larkana.

Twenty Years On

Twenty years ago, Pradeep Kumar Singh Chauhan and two of his fellow Research Scholars in the Department of Earth Sciences, University of Roorkee, decided to start a wall magazine to promote Hindi Literature. Back then, there were no funds for that… they decided to use the sparse RS Fund. Then, there was no space for them to work and display their wall magazine. That’s when the Librarian at the Central Library agreed to allow them to use their premises and asked his staff to cooperate with the team.

A first edition came out with limited contribution. Then came a second with more entries from other Research Scholars. By the third edition, a name was finalized for the nascent magazine – Kshitij. PG students were involved and finally, to provide continuity, UG students.

And a glorious story went on from here – from a wall magazine to a print magazine to a web magazine and much more. Here’s to Dr. PKS Chauhan, now a scientist at CBRI, and his daughter, who discovered an issue of Kshitij at RP. Here’s to a man who had a vision – a vision that has changed hundreds of thousands of lives.

Captain’s Log #142.13.15
18 April, CE 8036
(Scaled to velocity 2.435c)

–BEGIN–

“Of all the questions ever asked, one is fundamental – are we alone?”

The eternal search for the secrets of the universe has driven our civilization ever ahead – to push reality beyond its limits, to find the truth that so far eluded us. But the truth was always closer home; the truth that we are indeed alone in this world. For millions of years, the truth lay hidden in a message. Now, I must share that message with you.

The year was 1912 and Antarctica was the stage for a great race. We all know that Amundsen was the first to reach the South Pole but what we don’t know was that it wasn’t the weather that held up Scot; he was help up by a box he found inside a crevice: a strange box, with a message in an alien language. For decades, a small group of scientists struggled to interpret the message on earth, while others believed that it was a message from aliens. The reason the Soviet Union and the United States started the space race was to find a new, advanced ally from another world.

Then, in 2010, the answer was found in a remote village in Arunachal Pradesh, India. Presumably, evolution had left a mark. A hitherto unknown language was found to be a close match to that used in the message. The world celebrated a new language, but a small team of scientists was faced with the truth behind our very existence.

The Big Bang was the result of minor distortions in the original form of the Universe that created a dangerous asymmetry. The Big Bang was a way to repair that asymmetry and moments after it, symmetry was restored in all but two respects – space-time and life. They were asymmetries: things that were never supposed to happen. The Universe created black holes to eliminate the space-time asymmetry, but life was much harder to eliminate. So the Universe made itself uninhabitable, a period we on Earth called the Hadean.

Life was wiped out in most of the Universe except for one strain that passed on through asteroids that both destroyed life and carried it away at the same time. With each new home, civilization progressed, only to be wiped out. But with each cycle, we progressed a little further. When we reached Venus, we discovered the ability to venture into space. But life was always an asymmetry, unable to find harmony with the Universe. Venus, like the worlds before it, was rendered uninhabitable by its own people. Beneath the clouds of Venus lie the remnants of a powerful civilization that killed itself.

However, the sub-optic speeds of the Venusian crafts only allowed them to reach Earth. This planet proved to be the kindest of our homes; an amazingly robust planet that bore the brunt of the asymmetry. We could never tell our own people the truth of our existence because the knowledge that there has always been a Planet B would destroy the strongest incentive to save Planet A.

We tried to explain the need to live in harmony with our world. We devised the science, we created the technology. But how could we fight politics? Eventually, the Asian Nuclear Wars and failed attempts to control Global Warming sparked off the extinction. Earth could no longer sustain the asymmetry and it was time to wipe it out.

When we realised that life was truly going to end, we prepared to flee outwards:  to take life to another world. No planet could sustain modern civilization, but the simplest form of life could be sustained. We created the Seed – a spaceship that would take the seeds of life to another world. We found a way to achieve super-optic speeds (it was really as simple as considering an accelerated event horizon) and we reworked the International Space Station so that it would no longer be a lab but a compass in the sky to guide us to our new home.

All we needed was to find a place to go. It took centuries but we finally found Cygnus XVI – your world. The mission was planned so that when the crew reached the planet, the life of its last surviving member would have just ended. Of course, there was always a chance that it would not work but it was agreed that if it did, then that last member would, as Captain, create a message and ask that the new world not be forced to meet the same fate as the old.

From the Captain’s deck of the Spacecraft Seed, this is Captain Tobias Nongkhlaw, signing off in hope that the successors to life will, someday, find this message. And that they will never have to write one of their own.

–END–