वक़्त

बता दो कि अब वक़्त जम सा गया है।

अब पीर जैसा, पहाड़ों पे मन के;

धवल हो गया है, बहता नहीं है...

नम है कि अब कुछ भी कहता नहीं है...

इसे रंग देदो; नए कुछ , कुछ खोये;

तपिश मांगता है, पिघल फिर ये रोये...

पिघलना ये चाहे...
चलना ये चाहे...
ये चाहे कि बंदिश हर इक दिल की तोड़े...
फिर इन धमनियों में उमंग बन ये दौड़े।

Play

You treated me as a 'toy'.

I let you play.

Because I loved the 'Child' in You.

And then,

You grew...

Into this 'wise man'...

To 'My Institution' which lies disintegrated...

To My Abode...

Past some days had been rough, and very rough; strong enough to stir a person’s ideals. Sleepless nights, gasping voices, impeding efforts and hindrances, unanswered questions and incertitude, anger, rage and indignation… and five make ups too.. :)

I had known deception, false hopes, betrayal and untrust. I had seen people being carried away and taking wrong decisions. I had seen their guilt and unrest, but still making no effort to get rid of the same. I had also known those who still lived in their cosy world of false illusions and egoism. But what was making me mad with anger was that my institution of love and cooperation was disintegrating. Months back, there was this tiny crack in my abode, a crack through which I thought only a trickle of water can pass. I never had the slightest of idea that soon that trickle would bring down the whole structure and then no one would be able to control the forces of the current. The time is now. The place whose not one glance could I miss makes me feel suffocated today. The air in it seems to be charged with the cruel chill of helplessness, with the pitiless anger of egoism against the incompressible form of an intruding pain.

Applauds, praising tones, ovations, grotesque voices, ‘their’ blames and complains, those hateful glances, the trauma, the fatigue, the tormented weariness, the anger and fear of that struggle, those shadows unconquerable….. “Stop!’ I shouted in pain as the delirium broke off. I got up from my bed, still shivering and just ran out of my claustrophobic room.

I was at the passage following the corridor. Darkness oozed out from between the trees and buildings, through the tangled maze of creepers.

“Why this anger?” I asked myself.

“For whom? Those pitiable creatures who live in unbelief; to whom day is day and night is night; nothing more, nothing less; because they understand all things seen and despise all else! Let them live with their illusions. God Knows better. He’ll let them know one day. He has been with me all these days, turning out that disastrous night into one of the most mighty and miraculous nights of my life. He’s been with me all through my life, strengthening my ideals of love, faith and perseverance. Anger was never a part of them. Then why today???”

It was 2:00 am at night and I was standing at the open grilled passage following the corridor of my hostel. A blast of cold air rubbed my face, caressing my brown hair. A shaft of limpid moon beam darted into my body as though I were a bay caged between the summit of hills. The bright beam stirred the waters of my soul and I broke out as if by magic into a dazzling sparkle.

I thought of my wanderings all these past disturbing days, of that obscure odyssey of revenge and indignation, of all the people who like me wander among such illusions, faithful, faithless; of the illusions that give them joy, that give them sorrow, that give them pain, that give them peace; of these invincible illusions which drive them far away from what they were…

“This is not me…. This is not me….” I whispered to myself...

PS: My abode is still dear to me, as dear as it was 2 years back when it gave me shelter; even more. Feel sad to see whats happening round. But all we can do is play our parts, and play them selflessly... In the end, its between me and 'My Abode'....

My Heart Leaps up...

My heart leaps up.

When I hold the sunshine in my palm;

and I touch the rain...

When I find a fainting robin;

build his nest again...

My heart leaps up.

When I see the 'child' in you.

Exuberant, happy and glee...

When you break the cage of illusions;

And set yourself free...

My heart leaps up.

When you press my hand with affection;

And tell me, 'We shall keep the ties..'

And hope dances in your eyes.

Like flickering fireflies...

My heart leaps up.

Leaps up to the scattered blues...

To your ever pervading hues...

I shall reach them.

Gather them.

Never let them fade away...

I know.

They shall illumine this world.

Some day.....

Naxal pics and promotion video

promotion video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1ucXniHJwQ

Still remember. It was 12th march and aditi comes crying and hugs me and breaks into tears in the Gandhi audi.

"Ma'am, nothing's prepared. movie is also half made. ab kuch ni hoga..."

i embraced her tight. And saw the movie. Poor girl had worked overnight for it.....

And the rest is history...:)

further....

read the post

http://gazalbharadwaj.blogspot.com/2010/03/from-directors-desk.html

I am.

I AM
not your love.
I AM
not the 'man' of your life.
Your words, your touch, your soul; do not belong to me.
But I
have been indited in You.
To imbue you with life.
To save you from sin.
To make you go on...

I AM
The sanctum of your sanguinity.
For you to recover your Faith.
Each time its stirred.

I AM
The conundrum you end up with.
Each time you talk to the mirror.
And you are not left 'unheard'.

I AM
The vicissitude of your journey.
When God plays Dice.
And a battle inside is conquered.

I AM
the 'triumph' ensuing your unfailing effort.
Feeding your immaculate desire...
I TAKE BIRTH.
I BREATHE.
I DIE.
AND I
shall never let you down...
Whenever,
Your 'eye' meets your 'eye'...

From The Director's desk...

The rehearsal time pics. Formal pics to be uploaded soon :)


“In life, we fight a lot. And fight till the end. But where are we heading. Good to think. This is not the end. If you’re not there now, you’ll be there some other day. There are four years ahead of you. Who says this is the end?” – Words a first year pal consoles a friend when a play she worked on did not clear the eliminations of ACCOLADE, the then cultural festival of our college.

Two years later.

The same pal looks at the poster of a play to be staged by this old friend, at the Gandhi Auditorium in Dharohar-2010, the annual cultural festival of our university, and has a hearty laugh with a newly made friend-
“She and her imaginations! All crap and vain…”

She knows this. Thinks of speaking to this so called old pal and letting out her disgust for the act. But Ma always taught me to believe in actions and not in words.
I abided by Ma.

I was not masked- There was too much life in me; and a mask is only a lifeless thing; I was glad I presented myself essentially as an actor. I would often think what if ‘gazal’ came to life on stage pushing my character, ‘Anna Desouza’ back and said all those things suffused in my soul. And had ‘Naxal’ occurred few months back, this would have happened. But ‘Naxal’ happened when it had to happen, just at the right time, for me to know and learn; for me to ‘live’ that moment, not as ‘gazal’ but as the lady on the stage, dressed splendidly for her part, imbued by the power she had, to awaken a cogent expectation of something heroic to take place. And it did.

Only when those eighty minutes were done with, I realized that my efforts had been acknowledged, that the conundrum was won; the conundrum of incertitude ensuing the cavalcade of impeding moments. I had broken the inveterate trends.

There was a gleam in these two brown eyes when they saw the full house response at The Gandhi Auditorium while making backstage preparations just before the play.

“ I had brought them here,” I whispered to myself, “ each one of them, students and faculty”. There was a sense of triumph in my eyes. But there was also this fear. My travail and vicissitude had to compete tonight, and I wanted the former to win coz a lot of things had been put up at stake for ‘Naxal’; a lot of things, and the whole of ‘me’.

It was dark backstage. The lights had been turned off just five minutes before the play to begin. The countdown began. My heart was beating fast. Thanks to the determined backstage friends for their indelible efforts to make me calm. The moment had arrived. ‘Naxal’ had begun. There is this quaint satisfaction a director gets to see his characters on stage, exuberant and living, speaking words indited long back. And to see the audience applaud at them gives such Elysium. But I was not just the director of the show all set to witness his characters perform, but also the female protagonist, yet to perform. I was nervous. I entered the stage for my scene feeling the cross on my neck firmly, and whispered to myself-

“Lord, Don’t you shatter my faith. I trust you.”

I don’t know but an invincible force came over me. While on stage, not even once did I suffer regression. Not for a moment did I think of ‘that’ which I feared would stir me up to ruins. Not for a second did ‘fear’ take over. It could not. I was too full of faith tonight. I was too full of love. And most importantly, the past few days had emancipated me from a cage of delusions. I was free tonight. An ineffable immaculating energy had inundated my being, filtered the ‘that’ in me which never deserved to be mine, which made every possible hinderance to kill my creation tonight, which was sadly ‘ my muse’ fot it shared its role in the conception of my creation. But I washed ‘it’ away tonight. ‘It’ took exit and only ‘love’ remained. Coz in the end its love that survives. That was the message of the play, ‘Naxal’ love survives.

I was ‘living’ my last scene on the stage. My eyes were wet, my voice quivering and I was on the verge of collapsing any moment. It was the departure scene, when ‘Anna’ had to go for her purpose leaving behind ‘Him’ whom she loved.

“ Never let go. Take care of yourself. Don’t you surrender. Don’t you get dejected. You’ll do something very big in your life… You’ll do wonders… You’ll… I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU…. Never let go…” My last words, the very last… shook me to the same extent, a bit less though. I was shivering as I entered backstage, making every possible effort to get hold of me. It took time, but I did. The backstage praises helped.

The play closed with a choreo. And began the inexorable series of applauds, ovations and applauses to my rhapsody which had ‘lived’ its life of eighty minutes on the historic stage of The Gandhi Auditorium, and made its mark, answered some iffy questions put up to its dignity. The hush that followed spoke it all…

I hugged my team. They were the people who had given me the empyrean of joy tonight. They were my support, my driving force. Had ‘Ankit’ and ‘Geetika’ not been there with me, I would have surrendered to those obstacles that came. Had ‘Mantu Sir’ and ‘Dabral Sir’ not stood by my side as the two mentors, I would have been washed away in the tide of time I saw. And without forgetting my very supportive batchmates and lovable juniors who kept me on…

I LOVE YOU ALL PEOPLE.

Thanks for making ‘naxal’ a reality…

'Naxal' love survives - my very first full stage play...

NAXAL love survives, my very first full stage play.... was a success. learnt a lot these days and found great people as friends, colleagues and juniors 2 wrk with...

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...