Tuesday, 16 April 2013

गौरव


एक शाम कुछ लिखने बैठे थे,
पर वो तुक बने नहीं,
उतनी मायूसी बची नहीं,
और वो शब्द रहे नहीं,
शायद एक कदम बढ़ गए हम,
वहीँ, उसी रास्ते पे,
जहां लोग सर झुकाए चल पड़ते थे,
बिना कुछ पूछे,
बिना किसी शिकायत के,
मैं भी शायद,
चल दिया वहीँ,
उसी नासमझी में,
ये शौकिया गुरुर था,
या किस्मत को हाँ कर बैठे,
अब लड़ने का जी नहीं करता,
अचानक लड़ाईयाँ छोटी हो गयीं,
अचानक थक के चूर हो जाने की मर्ज़ी नहीं रही,
अचानक सब ठीक लगने लगा,
या ये अचानक हुआ ही नहीं,
अपनी ही बेवकूफी को और दो कदम आगे ले गए,
या मकसद बदल गए,
या जुनूं ख़तम कर बैठे,
या सर्द हो गयी समझ,
अब मैं वो नहीं रहा,
अगर वो रहता भी तो क्या फर्क पड़ता,
कोई फर्क न तब पड़ा,
न अब पड़ेगा,
अब हया खुश्क महसूस होती है,
उस वक़्त ज़माने से रंजिश लिए बैठे थे,
अब अपने आप से,
वो अल्फाज़ वाकई में नहीं रहे,
वो मायूसी वाकई में नहीं बची,
आज पहली बार महसूस हुआ,
शायद मैंने भी शोर अपना लिया ||

Monday, 4 March 2013

A Short Film

I made a new short film titled "A Short Film"

The poster of the film


And the film...



About making of the short film and from where this idea originated can be found here.

Also, like us on Facebook.

Do drop in your comments...
Regards,
Salil

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Future Perfect


Okay, let me try to make sense.  This is not an exercise. This is Reality in Gravity Shift Observance. This will be done only once, and never again. If this process succeeds, next time, this will be implemented on TRAILER 1.0. TRAILER is an abbreviation, and can be expanded as Travel Incident Live Emulation Rover. It is an emulator of space helicopters, ROTOMATERS. The development of the TRAILER started 27 years ago. It is inconsequential of the fact that ROTOMATERS’ gravity stabilising mechanism faced 30% chances of failure when it got exposed to a variable gravity surface. Alright, I feel till now it has made sense. This digital logging software will be converting what I have said, and what I am saying into a readable document.
   
The readable copy won’t come with a voice signature, because the signature of this document is a voice type. If you are reading this, then most probably you are doing it on a news feed device. If you are hearing this, then perhaps you are listening to the original file with my voice print signature. The voice ID signature is ##__! __##@! For all those who are reading this, if you can convert this code into an alphanumeric value, then you have to be very sure it is aa00900aaX2. If you can’t, then it is a text based copy, not a binary one, and uploading it on the TruTWOG servers won’t grant you access to the inbound information. For all those listening, you have heard that I spoke letters ##__! __##@!. Oh, the reader-converter mechanism converted the voice signature to a binary PIN. But you know the letters that were spoken, don’t you?

There was a green, rich garden. Somewhere in Ireland, in 2024, ordinary spaceships didn’t land there. Or so was its incapability. So the Irish caught hold of a tribesman. He stole those Irish scientists’ magnifying glass, and ran into the forest. The Irish scientists saw a glaring streak of light in the space and all tribal people came out of the forest running. When scientists investigated, they found out a spaceship had crash landed.
The information on the TruTWOG servers is critical to SysControl. And, most importantly, the project we are handling. It is, perhaps, a high cost project. But most importantly, what, we should understand, is, the true development of our organization lies in the fact that information should not be made public at any cost, or that will probably bring down the government.

In 1976, in Bombay, a gun smuggler sold a German make gun for 2 Rs. The buyer's name was Vikram Patel. He took that gun, opened all its, parts and threw it into the sea. One of the parts was picked up by a fisherman in Goa, accidentally. He dried it, and sold it in the black market. The black marketer paid him a lot of money. That metallic part was kept safe in Goa for the rest of his lifetime, by the black marketer.
The Irish garden had a lot of red roses housed in there. There were a lot of pathways built using lush green artificial grass. In between those pathways, there was one cold section. It was so cold; it could be used to freeze water. But it wasn’t, it was used for something else.

Today, where I am standing, it is a trash land. I can see piles and piles of garbage. Out of those garbage lands, at times, I see Tigers stepping out. Sometimes I see Toucans shouting and flying. They’re all fake, robots. One bird had blue colored beak with a black dot on it. I have been seeing it for 22 years in this variable gravity zone. It flies in one direction in the morning, it returns following the same direction in the evening. The bird didn’t change, it didn’t weaken.

TruTWOG servers house unlimited space. Access to those servers will help you in knowing the truth, but by the time you find its message, you may find that this audio file or binary document is useless. Someone would change the settings and disable logging in through this message.

That black marketer gave that artifact to his great grandson. One day while observing that artifact, he noticed a bar code. He took that artifact and scanned the barcode. His reader failed, the barcode was embedded with an outdated technology. The grandson could not extract any information out of it. Right below that bar code, it was written in English, hopeless, 1941.

The Irish tribesman took that magnifying glass into the jungle. The cold metallic section in the garden, got warmed up, the large, presumably, an alien spaceship landed into the jungle, all tribesmen came running out of the Jungle. The scientists smacked their foreheads, went into the jungle, opened the pits, and saved a pilot. Associates died, media publicized it as Space organization’s failed test attempt at building a space ship. Scientists wanted to cover it up as alien spaceship landing.

SysControl wants TruTWOG to be a mystery, though some of the pirates might have leaked the data already. All the space missions are a myth, all data on cloud goes to TruTWOG, they observe the trends, and support political organizations to use means, on how to fool and control the public. We are moving towards totalitarianism.

I stand here, in between the TRAILER’s Gravity Shift Emulation paradigm. I volunteered, had ROTOMATER not failed, had people have not known in plain sight what we were up to, probably a tribal indifferent man, whose life wouldn’t make a lot of difference to the intelligent class, would have been put inside the real ROTOMATER, and sent in space.

The Great Grandson searched barcode decryption algorithm over the internet. He found many, and tested one by one. One of them worked, he translated it into an alphanumeric value ‘aa00900aaX2’.

I have been seeing it for 22 years. I was in between the TRAILER. I was a test case. It was nothing more, but a distraction. Everything was a distraction. People, continued to be foolish, and people continued to be manipulated. It was Space development, certainly. But, all controversy around it was a distraction to cover up the financial gains politicians could politically use it. All someone at the top was bothered about was money. And that’s it. I opened the database. ROTOMATER was fine. TRAILER was fine. Everything was development,, yes, but behind it was a scam, large, farcical, and humongous. And all we were worried about was, a singer sings foul songs, a movie could disrupt harmony. Government let those issues glamorise as it continued to function corruptly. And everyone at the top of the circle cashed on it.  Situation didn’t change. It kept worsening, to the day this land became a dystopian nightmare. Quite ironically, nation developed on the infrastructural front. Ecosystem around me is an artificial one. I see fake tigers and fake toucans. Right behind the glass walls I see a trash land. Its silicon boards piled up. I see Recycler’s and huge machinery, but culturally, we stand there. We still fight on pity issues as our government fools us. They steal from us, and slowly, unknowingly we become slaves, or we are one. All I could do was broadcast a scam, I leaked it. Yet, this scam was just one problem, my nation still eats spice, and discusses non-sense. Nothing’s going to change, only worsen. Worsen, till it implodes, and we will continue to be one pretentious, developed country.

Saturday, 29 December 2012

मायूस बगिया

कुछ रोज़ खुशिया बरसती थी शामो में
हम गरीबों के मेले में सांसें ढूंढ रहे थे
अजीब थी उस बगिये कि खुशबु 
जहां तितलियाँ आज़ाद थीं 
फूलों पर डगमगाने के लिए
पर मैं देखता हूँ उसी बगीचे साथ रहने वाले पड़ोसियों को
जिनको शायद मायूस फूलों कि नमी महसूस ही नहीं होती
सिर्फ समझ आता है उनको तो शोर और मतलब
बगैर खिलखिलाती खुशिओं के
उस मुरझाते हुए बगीचे में
क्या रोती हुई खामोशी मेहसूस नहीं होती?
क्या हमें समझ नहीं आता
कि हमने जिस खूबसूरती को सीचने के वादे किये थे
हम उसी को नोच बैठे?
एक शाम शायद सपनो में ही थी
जहां तितलियाँ खेलती थी
उस बगीचे में खुशबू थी
दुनिया सांस ढूंढती थी
सपना ही रहा होगा शायद,
क्योंकि जहां हम हैं
वहाँ खुशियाँ तो शोर में ही हैं
जहां कभी शोर में होती थी सिर्फ तकलीफें
और शिकायतें ||

RIP That Girl, who said she wanted to live, and Independent India.

Thursday, 29 November 2012

That Girl


Sometimes, it just so happens that things are not in your hands. All you can do is, wait, watch, think and realize. May be in the larger scheme of things, as people love to call it when they can’t change their lives, it is for the greater good.  But sometimes, feelings are so true, those which couldn’t be suppressed, those, occurring only and exclusively when one’s ability to acquire is not challenged. Occasionally, it happens, that someone falls in love, and then falls out of it, and then again, with someone else. It goes on, and on, as it depends upon the fact that one can approach someone or not. Therefore it is possible that people may find someone, living opposite to their houses or in office or anywhere else, adorable when compared to make up laden, fancy dress ridden film stars.

And most of the times until some sort of cosmic interference steps in, and that is, usually, a decision colliding with another decision. A boy may stand up on his feet, collect courage, and talk to a girl. And that’s just the beginning, a lot of things follow, until the boy proposes and strangles the love story, there and then. Because always, all love stories end, where the guy says “I love you”, despite wondering how corny that sounds. And no, those love stories beginning with the boy and the girl attracted to each other, those which don’t end with the corny statement, but much later in fact, are not love stories, they are tragedies. If by chance, such a story ends happily then it isn’t a story, it is a properly planned marketing strategy executed successfully for financial benefits, to sell a book or a film.

So the matter of fact lies in the truth, that whatever is believed to be a love story is either a hoax, or a tragedy. But it isn’t a love story. And, exceptions are always there, everywhere. Had movies been a reflection of life, or dreams, that they are capable of, they’d have shown a story where boys and girls live in dreams more than reality. They work, they dream, they sleep dream, they talk they dream. Greatest moments of life dwell within fast foods corners, over pizzas, breads, fried chickens, mochas, burgers. At times, over those pizzas, when single girls make fun of single boys who in turn flirt with other single girls, if they come to know about it and considering Indian situation if there are at all, within a group, where the flirt in question is there on the table, but the girl in question isn’t and at all times, there is another boy on the table dreaming of someone else, that others don’t know of, and don’t care of. When the discussion is too spicy to end, the dreamer’s dream girl pops out of the dream and enters the fast food corner, with her own herd, the red-blue tackily colored, bizarrely designed eatery that is capable of generating not-to-be-taken-seriously mood, with glass walls, out of which dusky evenings, above the highways are slowly swallowed by nights, star filled, lamp lit.

The red-blue walls, with insanely circular, red-blue in color, office like but conveniently large, table, for eating is occupied by 7-8 hoodlums, comprising of both boys and girls, who have no other thing to discuss, or think, or dream. From a distance one would think there are 10 people, but actually on that table, there were 7. Throwing gags at each other. Boys with girls, slightly less familiar, become formal, alarmingly. They try to be funny, serious, diligent, enigmatic, magnificent etc. all at the same time. But there are few, who most of the times, think too much to bother, or dream too much to bother. And that is another skill of theirs to attract, attention, obviously. Most of the human lives are spent fighting for it, so no point in blaming that hard coded beauty of the human nature. That is the poetry of it, the art of it, of the nature.

Successively, that discussion is wished, that it doesn’t end. And one amongst them gets bored and starts dreaming. In Paulo Coelho’s Alchemist, ripped off, hilariously in an extraneously asinine Hindi film, it was said that “When you want something, the entire universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”. As that discussion continues to get mundane, and that evening deepens, into the glossy mysterious night, reality, steps aside, for the dreamy, partially accurate, partially abstract haze. That, from that door, transparent and outlined by red fabric thick pillars, where a grey colored car whose metal shines reflecting the lamp above it is parked, from behind it, a man leaning to the car could see inside, but he seemed lost in his own confounded diligence. His carefree smoke evidenced. The highway behind the highway was traffic free. Occasionally a motorcycle or a car or a lorry would cross one’s line of sight.

Orange was the color of the lamp post, not the one above the car, but the one established on the divider slicing the highway into two, across its length. Illuminating the portion of the highway, because its location wasn’t exactly opposite to the eatery, so from inside, it looked like a painting, beginning with a red colored pillar on the left, a transparent door, another pillar, a glass wall, outside the glass wall stood the car, and the man leaning to it, and smoking, very slowly, towards the right end of the wall, outside the part of the highway which was partially illuminated and partially dark, and the lamppost. That was maximum an eye could see, without turning the neck. The eye of the dreamer, which intended to see a girl, unknown, who stayed nearby, and the dreamer would see her, in that place, many times, and started dreaming that she would enter, and today, he would stand on his feet and say hi.

There is a sequence, the way he dreamt. She would come with 2-3 other girls, she would stop outside have a chat, analyze if there is a place inside, to sit. And she would resume discussion and she would move on, go straight. She wouldn’t come in. The whole pack would go straight.

She would come alone, analyze if there is a place to sit, she would think for some time, she would come in, and order what she would like to have, wait, get it packed, and take it away.

She would come, chatting with her friends, and without even thinking about coming inside, she would go straight.

She would come, with a big group of people, she would see that there is no place inside for such a large group of people and she would go back.

She would come inside; it doesn’t matter if she comes with a large number of people, and she would order something, have a blast and go back.

She would come inside, she would sit, and dreamer would wait for the right opportunity, gather courage to say Hi, and he would go to her, and say hi.

She would come inside, and he would see her come, eat and go and without doing anything.

She would come, with 2 other girls, without even thinking about coming inside, she opens the door, chatting with her friends, places her order and occupies a table right opposite to him. She notices, the boy is seeing, nervously, she looks away, she observes again, she sees the boy is still there, not one inch turned, she gets nervous, even further, and looks around, only to check back again, and the boy is looking away and his friends are taking pot shots at each other.

Usually, it so happens, that there is another truth, hidden somewhere. But when there exists a group of people there is someone who senses, what’s wrong. So inside a fast food corner, the boy, slowly, carefully, trying to find an opportunity, to catch a glimpse. The problem, lies in capability to acquire, the matter of fact that someone is close enough, and also, the fact, that the other person is good looking, at-least in the eyes of the beholder, also points out to an internal urge of having a good looking girl friend who can be a status symbol. Perhaps that is also the reason, people usually tend to move on when situations change, finding a better looking girl, for example.

But that, was not the point, right now. Right now, the loneliness of a youngster was playing a role. Especially, while dwelling in dreams, analyzing reality, most of the time he’d suppressed feelings. For that one moment of time, when dream took a shape, and undying will to observe in silence, that urge to talk to someone, and see without any hitch, for the rest of the life, in that moment lived feelings, that usurped, thoughtfulness, logic.
In that pack, of people that evening, one of his friends, observed shift in behavior, turned around to see, to be stunned to know, what stopped the boy from behaving normally. The boy was interrupted  as looked up to see his friend with his eyebrow raised, rather gleefully. Then started the problem. Reading expressions, of the two people in the pack, another one got curios, and she was a girl, she turned around to check what’s wrong, and that was it.

The dreamer guy was too shy to speak, and here he is, amidst people, who had no other topic to discuss other than each other’s counterparts, and the dreamer was immediately, the center of attention. Not that he’d mind, but then it was a nervous situation. Of all the confusion, one of them asked a question, apparently, not knowing anything.

“What’s up, why is everyone so silent?”

“That girl”, dreamer pointed, using drastically magnificent gestures, that people could cherish and laugh for another 5 minutes, without a hiccup.

“So what’s wrong? Go on and say hi!” few friends in a pack are dudes, they are too carefree, just to enjoy the scene. There is a category of these people. Those who say ‘go on and fight I’m there’. And many get fooled by that statement, primarily because he’s there would not make a lot of difference. Because he is not the one going to curb his fear and make a move, which usually is a disaster of epic proportions.

“I won’t”, dreamer had another dream going on with him, as he observed the girl was alone on her table rest of her friends were standing in front of the counter, trying to decide what they’d decide.

“This is the moment, either you go, and say Hi, or you sit here and glance till she leaves and you continue with your dreams forever.” Another one said.

“You know her name?” a girl from the pack asked,

“No”, another one replied, “he’s been doing this for quite some time now but he is too cold to make a move”.

The problem is, he had a similar experience already. He tried, to talk to a girl, rather unknown. Still he knew her name and phone number. He dialed, she picked up, he said “Hi, Actually, I’m, Actually, I’m, actually I’m Rohan, Actually, no I’m not Rohan, actually that’s not my real name, actually I wanted to talk to you, actually can we be friends? No actually, I mean”, “Do you have another word than the word ‘actually’ in your vocabulary?” With one single statement, she told him he is very bad with the talking part. That day, he swore, this would be his first and last time, when he’d flirt. Regardless, whatever he might feel, he’d keep his head down, and never be ashamed. Better coward than ashamed, he thought.

“What are you thinking? Go” One of them pulled him back to the reality.

“Go, she’s alone, go” “Go.” “Yes, be a man!” “Look at your face, don’t throw up already” “He’s red!” 
“He’s blushing Idiot” as everyone quietly yelled, blushing was the word that hit him. It infuriated him, disgusted him, he stood up, without a plan, walked into reality, that today he’d do the thing. He’d win the war and say hi, despite the fact he might have never talked to a girl unknown, well, other than one exception, though the last time, the girl wasn’t completely unknown, still.

So, he stood up, walked as a military general with assault rifles and guns on his shoulders, ready to destroy the enemy, the hitch of being someone who couldn’t talk. Like a cowboy from westerns on horses, he lifted his shoulders, put aside his chair, and walked as the girl observed the weirdly elegant masculinity approach.
With each step he took, the boy would change his appearances in his dreams. From a military general, to a cowboy, to a shirtless hero from Hindi Films, to a charming superstar who’d make women awestruck simply by stretching his arms, to an elegant magician who’d please the audiences by removing his hat and taking a bow, to accept success.

As he came close to the table he turned his gaze towards the girl’s eyes, he fixed his gaze as he walked and then he gradually looked down, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, turned left from the girl’s table, walked straight, took a right turn, walked a few steps forward, and went out of the eatery.

And that was it. When he bowed in his dream, he looked down in reality, he was wearing brown colored nubucks, with blue jeans and a black T, he was no magician, but an ordinary boy full of nervousness, and sheer shamefulness. He walked away, pretending he is sending a message. He perhaps would never know the name of the girl, last time, he did because she was in college and there were mutual friends. Now, there was no chance, that girl would remain, that girl would continue to be that girl for the rest of his life.

But it wouldn’t make a lot of difference, will it? At times he felt, that in case he’d really talk to that girl, he dreamt may be he’d succeed in seeing through it, to the end of it, he dreamt that end was plane boring. Talking on phone for hours, going out eating, watching movies, if things get serious enough getting married and back to usual life all over again, the true poetry lied before the endings, and in that nervousness, he realized was true romance. One day may be he’d find someone, that he could gather courage and confidence to talk to, or maybe he’d just spend the rest of his life dreaming, thinking whether whatever he felt, was it true, or just another vague attempt at attention seeking?





Thursday, 15 November 2012

अब भी

कुछ रोज़ एक नदी के किनारे 
चंद गुलाब छोड़ जाते थे सैलानी
सफर का पता नहीं रहता
इस उम्मीद में 
शायद अगर कहीं खो गए 
तो दूसरों को पता रहेगा
कि कोई आया था यहीं,
नदी किनारे परिंदे थे
कई सारे
वो याद रखते थे
खोई हुई दुनिया को याद दिलाते थे
कभी कभी राह भी दिखाते थे
नदी किनारे 
अभी भी गुलाब वहीँ हैं
पर आजकल फूलों को भी कौन परखता है
किसी चिड़िया के गाने को सुनने का वक्त कहाँ?
बहुत शोर है नदी से दूर,
अब शायद शोर की ही आदत पड़ गयी,
गाने वाले परिंदे सब उड़ गए,
कोई सुन ने वाला नहीं रहा
कुछ गुलाब अभी भी वहीँ हैं,
कुछ मुरझा गए,
कुछ नए खिल गए
बाकी नदी का क्या,
बहती थी, बहती है
अब भी ||

Monday, 22 October 2012

शब्द


एक कमरे के एक कोने के
ना जाने किस अँधेरे हिस्से में 
अधूरी रौशनी है मेरे पास
एक कागज़ है एक कलम है
ढेर सारी उम्मीदें हैं, सोच है 
और अनगिनत अल्फाज़ 
एक कविता कि सूरत नकाशने के लिए
पर क्या फाएदा
लिखने वाला भी मैं और पढ़ने वाला भी
चार अधूरी कहानियाँ है सुनाने को
चार, कहानी सुनने वाले नहीं 
एक रोज़ कहीं खो जाएंगे ये कागज़ 
कहीं भूल जाऊँगा अपनी स्याही 
किसी को उधार में मिल जाएगी ये कलम 
और मैं चल पडूंगा इसी सफर पे आगे कहीं 
ये दुनिया है बोलने वालों की 
दिखाने वालों की
सोचना पढ़ना समझना ढूँढना 
इतना वक्त किसके पास 
खुशियाँ भी हैं मुफ्त में
पर उस सच्चाई में 
वो दिखावा कहाँ 
संजीदगी को महफ़िल कहाँ 
और तसल्ली को ठिकाना कहाँ 
पर ये कागज़ रहने दो मेरे पास
मुझे नहीं दिखानी
अपनी बुनी हुई लफ़्ज़ों कि चादर
इन्हीं को ओढ़ के सो जाऊँगा रोज़
इसी कि तसल्ली है 
कुछ देर सोच सके 
कुछ देर महसूस कर सके 
कुछ देर समझ सके, और
केसर के डिब्बे में छिपा सके 
बचा सके, हमेशा के लिए
थोड़े से शब्द
थोड़ी सी इंसानियत ||