chaltey jaa rahein...

sarankhon pe rakhein tere labz mujhko
kuch iss tarah hai jala rahein,
sardiyon mein bhi jal rahein hai yeh aankhen
aasuon mein bhi sparsh ho raha hai
kahi kuch jaltey zakhmon ka...
bas jee rahein hai zinagi ko,
aasuon ko hassi mein chipaye hue..
teri yaadon ko yu dil mein dafnaaye huye,
har muskuraahat ki lapet ko banaakar kafand,
mar kar bhi jee rahein hai hum.
jee rahein hai hum. jee rahein hai hum.
bas chaltey jaa rahein hai hum.
sarankhon pe rakhein tere labz mujhko
kuch iss tarah hai jala rahein,
ke mar kar bhi jee rahein hai hum.
bas chaltey jaa rahein hai hum.

-Pushkaraj Shirke

Crash.. and live.

The sun was easy that day. wasnt burning as it usually does. the job was done- just a freelance work- just a little more money on a saturday afternoon. The way back home was tempting in a different way. But he felt lifeless.. like something within him was missing... maybe it was just the consciousness of life... or maybe just that spark that makes one feel alive. It had been a long time since that day in heaven when he had felt so alive. The only thing now that made him feel something at the moment was the purr of the150cc engine that was growing louder everytime he kissed the wind a little more.

Neutral. The traffic was as usual on a sunny saturday afternoon. the signals were in place. the helmet was on. and the black panther seemed beckoning for one free wild run. The chance came on. The signal turned green and the streets cleared out as he roared past the frontrunners in the herd. 70 kmph. it was a sail. cutting around the few cars that came ahead until the long clear highway that spread across like a red carpet to life. 80 kmph.

Click. the fourth gear slid under his feet as smooth as the poised claws of a cat ready to pounce. Blur. 100 kmph. The purring pussycats on the other side of the road just seemed a blur fro the visor of the focussed helmet. The panther was sparking life. Like a gush of water from the cracked wall of a dam that held back more than it ever really could. The block now lay just ahead. as a cattle mooed side by side covering the carpet all across. but for one edge on the wrong side of the street. A split second. A decision. Click. zipped across the edge n out right onto the open concrete n tar that lay ahead. far far away from the next signal.

120 kmph. the wind was now sparking little bursts of life within him. 120 kmph. the final gear. going steady blazing the path. feeling half alive. still on the left side to avoid the cattle. btttttrrrrrrrr.... it jumped out from the edges right onto the road. a jackrabbit start. straight in the path. INEVITABLE.

Fuck the brakes. Slide sideways. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........ Crashhhhhh...rrrrrrrrrrr..... off the bike and almost onto the road - just a moment before contact... life was in. ALIVE. as he thudded n slid along the road he saw the sparks flying off the bike's steel silencer that was still clawing at the road ahead of him in desperation. Standing up with blood all across his arms... he felt a smile across his face he simply couldnt explain. A rush of life that felt like GOD. Picked the helmet that had rolled across, smiled at the petrified rishawdriver "hota hai, koi baat nahi" he said. The rishaw driver breathed a sigh of relief as the people come over ready to thrash him backed off at the statement.

Life. it felt like life once again. She was there. A flash through his mind. and he knew what had kept him alive. He had felt alive again. but now he had to live on too. He had a wait ahead of him to live through. The smile was still there. and it didnt seem like it was going to leave again.

He had crashed into a realisation. he had crashed... into life.

-Pushkaraj Shirke

Moving ahead...

Every night he lays back in bed.. tired.. wishing he could stop walking... wishing things were a little easier. just little easier. wishing he didnt have to bear the pain of knowing that the one person... that one person whom he loved beyond everything in the universe.. is 'somewhere else'. Faith is all that keeps him going. faith that its worth it all. faith that this time it aint like one of those that came haunting in the past. faith that this really is love.

every morning he wakes up to the little kid they had together.. kisses him.. puts on a smile and moves ahead. he walks in for a bath... and takes a little longer than usual everysingle day now. wonder how he evr discovered that water makes it easier to let the tears flow. Sometimes... just sometimes .. again like the past.. the glass of the ventilators seem tempting to the wrists. but he knows.. or rather keeps faith that it wont be only him that would carry this pain.

all through the day.. the people.. the strangers.. the friends... he goes through them all... but never for a moment does he lose from his mind the only memories that keep him alive. watching people together.. listening to songs... watching that little hotel on his way home... everything that brings to life those memories that he holds so dear break him a little as he moves ahead. piece by piece he gathers himself.. to move ahead - ahead to that one time that he hopes things would be different... reach that end where his memories for once agin would be real. for that point in time when the wait would be over.

night draws closer again... he drags himself to the party and has a great time... laughing, dancing,.. dancing right till then end even when no one dances anymore--- it somehow helps him from feeling the pain of being there... the pain that just dosent leave him. smiling at the million ppl that come across him. sharing laughs n yaps wid everyone like the world couldnt get any better. no one can see through him. its a curtain so dense that even he didnt know he could ever create. he is a stranger to himself when its all over. he isnt drunk... but he isnt himself either.

he reads that little diary a few times on the way home. oh yes.. thats one thing that goes with him wherever he goes. kisses it once. kisses it twice and closes it as he shuts his eyes. the cabbie says "saab, aagaye ". he pays the fare and gets to the doorstep. he waits at the door a few moments before knocking. he has made it through the day. he has moved a little more ahead to that one point in time that he so longs for. the pain he hopes will be all worth it. he hopes someone understands that he'll be there waiting... when he makes it through.

he has moved ahead. but he definitely hasnt moved on. for that is one thing he can never do. the one thing he can never do. maybe he's just a dreamer... but maybe thats what he's know as what 'love' really is.

-Pushkaraj Shirke