An Ambitious Zombie

An oasis lost, The fort's a ghost, A desert lusting for life. A tradition suffocating, The modernization chest-thumping, Thar beating its norm.

तालाब वहीँ था, कश्ती वहीँ थी, लहरें बस यूहीं बह रही थी, और हवा भी बस युहीं मुस्कुरा रही थी,  मगर शायद अपनी परछाई को देखने चाँद आया था अमावस  की रात को. तारें वहीँ थे, बादल वहीँ थे, और बादल से निकलती बूँदें बस यूहीं मचल कर गा रही थी,  मगर शायद बादल के पीछे छुपने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को. पेड़ वहीँ थे, पत्ते हवा का साथ आज भी दे रहे थे, और शाखाओं पर बैठे पंछी आज भी प्यार के अफ़साने सुना रहे थे, मगर शायद अपने प्यार के किस्से सुनाने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को... धर्म की बातें आज भी कानों में गूँज रहीं थी, आंसू  एक मुस्कान को आज भी ढूंढ़ रही थी,  और वहीँ एक बुढ़िया खून की उस नदी में बादल की उन बूंदों को तलाश रही थी, मगर शायद उस रात का गवाह बनने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को. प्यार की इस धूप में नफरत का अँधेरा आज भी था, आंसू के बाढ़ में बहते उस एक कश्ती का इंतज़ार आज भी था,  और वहीँ एक गरीब आग की लपटों के बीच वो बहती हवा और मुस्कुराती लहरों को तलाश रहा था, मगर शायद उस रात को मजबूर बन कर रहने, चाँद आया था अमावस की रात को... खून के फव्वारे आज भी पहाड़

“” She enters the world, steps into the unknown territory, haunted by the spirits of Lucifers of the world. Looks around, stares at her openings, the instant scanning of her body, the judgment passed through the eyes, she feels harassed, she feels abused. But she stands tall, wondering why can’t someone be punished for the impurity of the thoughts and not just actions. Oh the thoughts, the range is infinite. “If only I can pay someone to limit my thoughts”, he thinks. His world is surreal. The curse of his limitless thoughts is it actually limits the reality around him. The judgment is passed, the behavior is observed and the mortals compartmentalized. “It could be the other way around” he wonders and then corrects his action. “Action, yes, this is what is lacking in these people” he mumbled as he looks down and forcibly bows to this unjust treatment by his God. He is carefree in the eyes of the rich and careless in the eyes of the downtrodden. This share of happiness is unfai

A young life born in the graveyard, Out of the mother’s womb, whose body lay still, Amidst the tears, he smiled with love, Alas, it was raining tears that day. Soon got the wings, and a reason to fly, Flew high & high, oh the innocence of it, Past the birds, past the worlds Past the planes and past the sun Saw a black spot in the sky, Unheralded he rushed towards it The devil at its purest or just another theory Explored the answers to the unknown questions About to touch the uncertainty of a certain world, He fell down to the ground, Bogged by the string strapped on his back Someone pulled his world down He coughed up blood, mumbled his last words, The innocence was gone, the laughter was gone Oh, the curious nature of our curiosity Took a naive child with it A young man born in the graveyard Out of the child’s body as it laid still Amidst the blood, a wounded soul arose Alas, it was raining blood that day. Started running all along the ground Faster and faster, whispering wi

Torn blankets covering a hundred bodies to conquer cold, footpaths providing the coziness for their souls to sleep on, traffic allowing the beautiful silence to let their eyes to dream and in that alluring setting depicting the so-called ‘equality’ in the world, there was this man, staring at a building continuously throughout the night. A non-smoker, inhaling the air in the winters of Delhi, sitting right in the face of this polluted gas chamber having been diagnosed with lu ng cancer, he started smiling at the irony of it all. He looked around at these ordinary lives narrating extraordinary stories, then lied down facing the wrath of the street light and started gazing into the depth of the sky. And then the sun rose and a chaotic order followed.  Hundreds of bodies still covered in blankets suddenly rushed to form an incoherent line, railing against the silence of the traffic and the coziness of the footpath. And the man just blended with the crowd outside AIIMs.

“Well, what's the point? In this infinite universe of I don’t know how many galaxies, stars, suns, this unnatural planet of 7 bn bodies and counting, we are just two insignificant souls battling the daily routine of life, labouring under the illusion of self, while fooling ourselves with a sense of purpose claiming that we do have a right to choose because our minds can’t fathom the non-existence of it. So really, what’s happening is probably just how it was supposed to unravel, isn't it?” he wondered as he tightly hugged her at the airport while the nihilist mind waged a war on the existentialist heart over the absurdity of all of it. Seconds later, tears rolled down his eyes as he knew very well this was the last time he was hugging her.

Colorful lights mingling with each other to create an aura of invincibility, waving hands resonating with the sound of wild exuberance, long strings of paper crowded together to create this majestic grandeur, and yet there she was at Sunburn, having the audacity to look past it all into the sky. The full moon, a couple of leaning stars and the rest of the dark sky peeking out of the smoke to make her story that night. Suddenly, she turned around and saw two eyes looking at her as if the moment itself decided to make it happen. They finally smiled at each other and for the first time that night, the sound of silence beat the sound of music.

Torn clothes but his eyes brimming with confidence, barefoot but his heart brimming with happiness, he was walking on the road to nowhere with a carefree smile and his everlasting freedom. Walking aimlessly, he spotted a bicycle and rushed towards it while aspiration and innocence exchanged glances. With an uncorrupted mind at play, he started putting the legs on the paddle only to realize that it's tied to a pole with a lock - a thing humans created to show their distrust o f each other. He tried pushing it multiple times but to no avail. He looked around, saw a man standing with a phone, trying to press numbers on another bicycle to open it. “Isn’t there supposed to be a key somewhere?” he wondered and slowly walked away as his inhibitions grew for the first time that day with his ambition saying “I am going to own this machine that can open the bicycle one day."

And then she woke up alone, no arms around her, no one to cuddle with, no one to give a kiss and yet a smile on her face. A woman in a foreign land, feeling free and solitary after a long time. In the ruins of Hampi, her troubled soul felt revived. Looking outside at the beautiful hills, listening to the whisper of trees, the silence of the lake, the hustle of the wind, the buzz of the town, she suddenly felt she does indeed exist! At that moment, she was delighted, she was  carefree, she was happy. And then the glass broke. She woke up again, with an arm around her, someone to cuddle with, someone to give a kiss to but no smile on her face.

“Did I really paint this? Did I really expect mountains to be black, leaves to be grey, the sky to be orange and sun to be blue?” he wondered as he took a silent ride to the past - his drawing book. It was bundled with the dust on the outside but wonderfully innocent in its imagination on the inside. Those drawings on the pages, whose weight he can still feel on his shoulder, were unhinged in its creativity, unparalleled in its curiosity and unsophisticated in its naivety. Using crayons to paint the water green, drawing a guy with three noses and one eye, asking the moon to be up in the middle of the day, and letting the stars know that flipping the coin will decide their fate that day, the book had everything but reality. “I am still the king in my own world, am I not?” he pondered as he closed the book with a smile on his face. He realized that reality bounds the innocence of creativity, why not let the imagination take over for a while.