Soch Sukhi Meri Chhati Hai...

Harivansh Rai Bachchan

(Sadhanyawad)

Jo tum aa jaate ek baar...

Mahadevi Verma

(sadhanyawaad)

A Language Done For

It never gave me contentment – writing in English, at least not before the past couple of days. And since this ecstasy amongst the words, for which the writers do scribble characters, was missing I sometimes felt like throwing my laptop away. However, a Sony Vaio means more materially than some short lived feelings and hence my black companion was always saved.

The focal raison d'être for this dead vigor was a certain lack of ability in myself of expression in a foreign language that English is. More of a concern was my insensitivity towards Hindi for whom we Indians have developed maternal outlook (yet again). I must admit that I did try to learn Hindi typing (long left are the ages of paper and pen), but to no one’s astonishment it turned out to be a complete failure given the mammoth complexity of Hindi and the even mammoth number of characters. It was one feeling that I always grudged – betraying the nation. Of course, I am not the last surviving savior of the mother tongue, but we are all supposed to play our parts, aren’t we?

Funnily, every time these pangs of guilt bowled me over, I watched Chupke-Chupke, that Dharmendra-Sharmila Tagore flick in which ‘Bade Bhaiya’ says that Hindi in itself possesses such greatness that feeble beings like me can’t cast insolence on her even if we want to. It gave me a certain quanta of relief, if at all.

Ironically, I was most timorous of my own looming silhouette in the blank obscurity of my computer’s screen. Angular umbra of my own conscious slowly paved its way on the keyboard, its every move in English clutching Hindi by the throat making the grip more firm. Several times, I put it down derelict at fault. But today, writing this I am no more insecure. And I know for certain, English is not the only dagger stabbed in the heart of Hindi.

A mounting politician in Maharashtra is also gaga over non use of Hindi. Those who do not address his concern are severely dealt with – beaten in government assemblies (wow, that’s one helluva move) and may be driven out of state as well. And the only people who are expressing concern are from the prime Hindi speaking states, which may somewhere imply that sooner or later; similar vision may arise from the other regional states as well. Voila! I am not alone anymore in killing Hindi. I and those politicians surely have our differences too, my English was making India international and they are taking us to regionalism. But of course, such differences can be resolved with time. Who cares if the national language is being put on the death bed inching its way towards the gallows?

And thus, for the past couple of days, this credence of massive guilt is slowly but surely leaving my conscious. At last, I am without stinting writing this post in a ‘free’ country, my regional-cum-angrez India.

Dare to Contest Elections???

Suicide...is it

Another day of life means culmination of the pain.
I do not wish to see the cruel world around me.
The pain which I’ve bearing becomes unbearable.
I do not wish to mingle with others, they seems like
Floating corks on the vast sea, drifting away from me.

I agree I was normal, normal like any one of you,
But the fact can never be hidden, though it is.
This excruciating pain I’ve been bearing becomes unbearable.
I do not wish to come forward, for I fear
The worst to come if I come forward, to me to all I care.

The best option available to end my days was chosen.
I left no notes for anyone, no bills, no grudges, no harm.
But I’ve been harmed. Please note, I’ve been.
I am failed. I cry every night to sleep.
So, let me have a good night sleep and sleep that be.

(With courtesy)