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Yes its sinking in.. Rank 40, CSE 2015.The UPSC circle- the close and the beginning.

Bagh-e-Bahisht Se Mujhe Hukam-e-Safar Diya Tha Kyun Kaar-e-Jahan Daraz Hai, Ab Mera Intezar Kar                      - Mohammad...

Sunday, January 31, 2010

YOU AND ME ARE FREE TO BE YOU AND ME...



Recently, I came across a quaint question... and since the question was not put up to me directly, i could not even reply... But somewhere in a shady corner of my mind, the tussel went on. And this is what i arrive at...




You and Me are free to BE You and Me...

I would often hear of the controversies that followed an author's book or a painter's work.The one related to Hussain's exile had effected me the most. I had started to understand that there are and there will be people who shall not respect your work; for they will interpret it in there own ways, as in the way they are made. Certain things are innate. You can't escape them. So, its not their fault if they can't reach your art and misinterpret it leading to strange and sometimes disgusting responses.
So, when this ageing 91-year-old man was left wandering in the world, his only crime bieng — India symbolically captured as a nude woman in the shape of the map of the country, it did not amaze me. The painting’s caption — Bharatmata — was the final trigger for volatile protests across the country. Effigies of the artist were burnt, an art show was disrupted and death threats were issued with unnerving alacrity.The painting was meant to go on auction to raise funds for victims of the Kashmir earthquake. But gallery owners were eventually forced to withdraw it from the bidding process. Coz people have their own grievances. Without even knowing, the whole thing and the essence behind it, THEY had to react! Thats how THEY are.

I had never thought i'd face such a question in my life, but I did. I'm no Hussain. I'm no Rushdie either. But I am what I am.And when my writings were questioned, and my art misinterpret, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

The Father touches 'The Lady' and creates in her womb, a miracle called 'LIFE'. And, He completes her and makes her 'a woman' that day.And She has to nurture this life inside her and take care of it so that one day it sees the world and The world sees it..

Can one odd day 'The Father' question her integrity, her intentions behind her nurturing the child and letting him out ino the world?

What if He does?

It hurts. It hurts a lot. But now she is a woman, a woman pregnent with life. She contains in her an inferno of this invincible strength.

When I write, I 'create'. I am a woman, a woman pregnant with life which is trying hard to see the world. And I need to bring this life into the world. No one has the right to question me or my intentions. Not even my 'inspiration', my 'muse'. Coz, i'm attached to this 'LIFE'.I have nurtured it. The muse only played its role to concieve it, and took exit. My creation is all mine now, an indispensable part of my body and soul.

So, as for my 'muse', even you can't question me.

You are among those thousand people in the world, whom i encounter each day and exchange smiles with. Its not that they don't matter, just that I know now that they can't reach me.Only that i want them to know-



"You and me are free to be...
You and me are free to be...
That you and me are free to be You and Me."

P.S : Might seem as a heavy dose of philosophy to THEM.As for THEM, i just wanna tell them. That i do not write for THEM. They niether deserve to question me nor my discretion on my creation, even if they ever shared a role in its conception. Their part is over for they chose to take exit.
I write for 'this life' breathing inside my womb which THEY blessed me with.
I write to feed this life...



Monday, January 25, 2010

I had never lost them. They were indited in me, from the very beginning. Even when one odd day I found I was over, 'they' were operating within, imbuing me with an invincible desire to go on..
My colours survived the dark..
They could not perish in the dust that had scattered the ashes of the unextinguished hearth of my soul. Today they rekindled the fire that once ‘lived’ and ‘loved’…
They gave me the strength to vanquish those fears… to break those walls…

And even when my being shall come to an end and life would close,
My ineffable hues shall pervade…





This is one of the sketches i drew during my post laser surjery period in january. and many more... fifteen black and white days restored in me my innate 'colors'...


COLORS

It had been just two days after my eye surgery. I had just returned from Ambala the previous evening, and two days of nothingness were enough to blow the hell out of me. I had another 15 days to go during which I could not read or write, watch computer or tv screen or even look at my mobile screen; these are the some post laser surgery precautions you see!


It had been two and a half months of running away from the things I did not want to face. All these days I had kept myself absorbed into my English and history books apart from my daily B.tech schedule; but now these 15 days I was all alone, all by myself and a black and white world. i was afraid. afraid to face myself and that unsatiable void that had now become a part of me forever...

My friends had been taking good care that I do not feel lonely and would make frequent calls. I had just got up an hour ago and my throat was still full of the foul taste of my eye drops. My mind had become a battlefield. Whole of my past two and a half years were flashing in my mind and would come to halt at that one devastating moment as a song gets stuck in a gramophone record. “STOP!” I almost shouted in fear, when there was a phone call from a friend. I pressed the button to take the call. The sensation of touch is perhaps the greatest of all five human senses; as when you’re deprived of any of the four, it fills up the gap.


“It’s getting over me. I can’t bear any more. I can’t bear this nothingness. Can’t read, can’t write.. can’t do anything! Hell. It’s killing me…” I broke off.
Even this one consoled me as all my friends would, in there respective calls and visits. But this one came up with something else too. Something different. Something which struck the chord.

“ Why don’t you do this Gazal?” He came up with this suggestion, “ask someone to get some A4 sheets for you and some colors, and whatever comes in your mind, just take it out on paper. If you can’t write, you can obviously draw…”
“ Draw without seeing what I’m drawing?” I protested instantly.


“Yupp. That’s a technique you see to dig out the things we often put at some shady corners of our mind. When you get well, check out your drawings and interpret what they say. They’ll tell you everything about you in these 15 days. You’ve got a good chance Gazal. Go on… talk to yourself. Colors speak...” He exclaimed.


“I fear… I don’t want me to go back to that… And I know this technique of yours would pull it all out. I don’t want to… I’m afraid…” I whispered hesitatingly.

“Now don’t say that to me!” he scolded back, in his same familiar tone. “ That’s not all you have in you! There’s so much more. Your passion, your spark, your dreams, your colors… Try it… And they’ll all come out.."


He had reached his grandma’s residence. We ended the conversation. But something within me went on.
“Should i?” or “Should I not?”


I called up Geetika. She was to come to meet me in the evening.(And she was coming with a pizza, as she had promised!). I asked her to also get a sketch book and a pack of crayons for me…
And this is how it began….
I just scribbled with whatever came to my mind. And then when i could see partly after a week, faired my scribblings a bit and added on to them... I was amazed. My friend was right. Colors speak..






COLORS SPEAK IT ALL...


When a soul draws you close...

When a Father feels his shadow...
(the 'father' who stands patiently when you come running to hug your mother on getting a prize, he keeps looking at you with the same satisfaction and 'awe' with which he first felt and touched you...)


This was not just a post 'the 3 idiots' hangover, but much more...




And the best part, this friend who had advised me to do this secretly disappeared for about a week. No contact at all. Cell switched off. I got worried. Later on told me He had gone on a 'one week exile' which he really needed. As for me I feel His exile did me good for probably God wanted my sketches to speak it all..


And they did...


For colors speak...