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post-calamity effects

Not a very happy occasion to write. Yet another page of Mumbai’s history has been colored in black ink. Yet another series of blasts! The tough Mumbai spirit was again put to test. And the strong Mumbaikar once again took control over the situation. People came out on the roads and helped their brethren. The ones who survived the blasts called friends and family to check if they had survived it too. Some emotional fools, too shocked even to make those calls, sat and cried. And the not-so-emotional fools gave them a piece of their mind. Some others made their cries loud enough to be heard by the government. The government, in turn, turned a deaf ear to people’s chaotic cries and said, “Things like these happen, they can’t really be controlled.” And for Kasab, it was actually like,
फूल क्या तेरे कदमों में हम
भेंट अपने सरों की चढ़ा जायेंगे


Done with a series of actions that usually follows such an attack! Yeah! It has become such a usual thing for us! Tomorrow morning, after the high tide of rage has passed, we’ll be back to our 7.47s and 6.20s. But what else do we do? We all have our families, our ambitions, our lives! We can’t do an “A Wednesday” in real lives. But what we can, and must do, is to channelize our energy, our anger into something constructive, let’s make it a way of life! Let’s swear today to be more alert, and not to laugh when someone checks under the seat for bombs. Let’s not make a fuss when the security guy takes 10 seconds extra to check your bag. On the contrary, let’s make sure that the security guards do their job well; we have all the rights to remind them their duty. Instead of cribbing about how the government asks for heavy taxes and never does anything about it, let’s make solid and meaningful use of tools like PIL and RTI. Not voting, because of all of them are crooks, is not an option. Throw the government out of power if you are not satisfied with it. DON’T BRIBE! Even for the smallest of the things! Corruption, even at the most unimportant level, is still corruption.

Everything said and done, change takes time. What do we do in the meanwhile? Die in blasts? Let’s govern ourselves. With the course of time, we have become emotionally and physically more independent. Let’s have an internal security system, in our neighborhood, and even in buses and trains. If we can celebrate our birthdays in train, we can come together for more serious things too. Let’s have a non-corrupt anti-corruption department in our workplaces, where both employees and customers can report about the slightest of corruption in any form.


And last but not the least, let’s live and let live. Spread love! Don’t forget to make at least one person happy everyday! That’s the only way to make this world “livable”! Care! If we care for others, we’ll think 10000 times before doing something anti-social. Pray! It might sound silly and out of context but pray that we achieve our goal soon. Let’s pray for the terrorists, too. May be that’s all that they need.
कर्मणि वाधिका रस्ते
माँ फलेषु कदाचन

Many of you might just discard this as a post-calamity-frustration-piece! But if all of us really make an effort, it seriously doesn't seem impossible to my eyes. Let's make a conscious effort this time and just see if it works.

Comments

  1. Correctly said... Let's live and let live and not Leave and let Leave... u'll be left nowhere in that case... dont leave it on others to be proactive.. be proactive!

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  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  3. Beautifully written..
    last second para very gud1..
    n yaa more importantly vl try to avoid corruption from my side atleast..:)

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  4. very nicely put into words nirali, these attacks reveal that India's
    so-called security system is incompetent.
    we all have to raise our voice for our country and for our city...

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  5. ur blog shud be put in a newspaper or a public website so that it can reach the masses....ssly ask renu if she cn do anything about it....its inspiring 2 me n if people find it so too, we all can make a difference....

    ReplyDelete
  6. well written lady.. face the sun and shadows will fall behind.. lets hope that we start doing it..may be that will end this viscous circle...
    abhishek

    ReplyDelete

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कविता

कविता लिखना किसी इंसान के बस की बात नहीं है
कविता ख़ुद ही अपने आप को लिखती है
इक ज़रिया है बस हम तो
कविता ख़ुद ही ख़ुद को आईना में दिखती है

यह ख़ुद अपनी ज़ुबां चुनती है
लफ्ज़ अपने ख़ुद ही ढूँढ़ती है
कोशिश कर लेना तुम कभी
झूठ लिखते ही ये टूटती है

देर रात यह सपने में आती
मन के दरवाज़े पर दस्तक देती
लिफ़ाफ़े में बंद चिट्ठी में
अपने आप को तुम्हें दे जाती
लिखावट काग़ज़ पर तुम्हारी है बेशक़
पर कलम में सियाही तो वो ही भर जाती

कभी यूँ ही शाम को मिलने आती
खिड़की के पास बैठ चाय की चुस्कियाँ लगाती
रोम रोम में इक महक सी भर जाती है
दिल की धड़कनें कानों तक गूँज जाती है
बाहर की खिड़की खोलते खोलते
यह रूह के दरवाज़े खोल जाती है

एक बार कविता हर किसी को छूने आती है
जब टुटा हो दिल प्यार में, तो यह कुछ ज़्यादा जी लुभाती है
जब हाथ बढ़ाए तुम्हारी ओर, झट से थाम लेना, साहीर
यह बार बार गले नहीं लगती है।

Take pleasure

Perfection is an obsession
Give yourelf some concession
Its perfectly alright to not know it all
Where's thé pleasure of getting up unless you fall?

There is, and will always bé compétition wherever you see
Thankfully, participation is not mandatory even with no entrance fée
Pick and choose your battles and fight them with all might
And keep fighting until you get it right
Do not confuse à momentary setback with an ultimate defeat
À strategic recul is sometimes necessary to achieve thé final feat.

Sing in thé shower and dance in thé bedroom
Thé best moments are those that never make it to facebook
Learn à new art just for thé heck of it
And i ll leave thé poem unrhymed just because i feel like it.

The 20 lakh package

In the corner of a room Clustered only with a
rusty stove And an old bed, A tattered book he read to his sister Trying to put her to bed.
The day had been long He had to cook with Baba And clean and dust, The woman of the house Had lads she could trust
At night Baba watched over the neighborhood And him, over their humble abode For his earnest parents This was his gentle ode
Finally came home Mommy Who was playing nanny To another little angel Whose parents took turns too Earning their hefty packages