Hum zindagi mein aksar aadatan jeete. Jaise aadatan jeene ki bhi ek aadat hi ho gayi. Hum aadatan brush karte hain, aadatan ussi time pe ussi tarah ki chai banaate hain, aadatan parents se baat karte yahaan tak ki aadatan friends ko bhi mil lete hain. Bas ek aadat si ho jaati hain. Aap chaahe jo bhi kar rahe ho zindagi mein, baatcheet, kaam, exercise aadat aapka peecha nahi chodegi. Ya shaayad aap aadat ka pallu nahi chodna chahte. Aadat aapko ek familiar sa, comfort zone deti hain. Wahaan sukoon hain. Pedictability hain. Shaayad hum aadaton mein bahut hi safe feel karte hain. Zindagi jaise ek tareeke se hi jeete hain. Ek baar jab kuch cheez click ho jaati hain, hum harroz ussi cheez ko dohraate hain. Its a sure shot success. Kuch alag tareeke se cheezon ko karne mein failure ka darr rehta hain. Par agar aap harroz ussi tareeke se waise hi zindagi jee rahe ho, toh shaayad aapke experiences bhi waise hi honge. Harroz. Ek hi sarikhe.
Par kya sab din ek hi sarikhe se kabhi hote hain? Kya saare log bhi ek hi sareekhe se hote hain? Kya opportunities aur situations bhi kabhi ek hi sareekhe ki hoti hai? Nahi na? To phir humaara zindagi ko dekhne ka aur ussey harroz jeene ka tareeka ek hi sareekha kyon ho? In this way toh hum humaari kaafi interesting si zindagi ke saath na insaafi kar rahe hain. Zindagi harroz aapko ek naya din, ek naya experience dene ki koshish karti hain. Par aapki sui toh bas ek hi song pe jaise atak gayi ho. Is it fair? Is it fair ki hum har din, har ek shaqs ko ek hi taraazu mein tolte hain?
I feel shaayad isiliye bade gyaani log keh gaye hai ki zindagi ke saath behna seekho. Just go with the flow. Kyonki jaise har experience naya hain, waise har experience ko mehsoos karney ka, ussey deal karney ka tareeka bhi toh naya hona chahiye. Aur yeh tabhi mumkin hai jab hum zindagi ko dono haath se sweekar karein aur kahein ki aaja, aaj main tujhme poori tarah se doobne ke liye taiiyaar hoon. Aur shaayad yeh yakin bhi hona chahiye ki us flow ke saath behna humaara kaam hain. Aur humein safely ek chor se doosre chor tak pahunchaana, zindagi ka.
Zindagi kahaaniyon ke bina kitni asahniya hoti. Hum zindagi ki har sacchai kahaaniyon ke ek chashme mein se dekhte hain. Yeh aise hua, kyonki shaayad bhagwaan ko yeh hi manzoor tha. Shaayad jin sawalon ke jawaab humaare paas nahi hote, hum wahan apni hi ek kahaani banakar chipka dete hain. Yeh un sawaalon ka hal to nahi hoti, par shaayad un sawaalon ka sahi jawaab milne tak, woh humein sukoon deti rehti hain. Hum apne man ko in kahaaniyon ke maadhyam se manaa lete hain. Kabhi kabaar yeh kahaaniyan satya se kaafi milti julti hoti hain. Aur kabhi kabaar woh ekdum viprit.
Aaj maine bhi apne man ko mana lene ke liye ek kahaani rachi hai. Isliye nahi ki mujhe sach ki bilkul idea hi nahi hain. Infact mujhe jo mehsoos hua hain, woh sach ke siva aur kuch nahi ho sakta. Par phir bhi maine ek kahaani rachi hain. Shaayad isliye kyonki woh sach itna bhadda, itna ahsahniy hain ki ussey sweekarne se acha main kisi kahaani mein vishwaas karna zyaada pasand karungi.
Uss din kuch zyada kaam nahi tha. Kaafi free sa din tha. Aur kaafi dull sa bhi. Baadalon ne aasman aise gher ke rakha tha, jaise ki koi emergency ka cerfew. Maano aasmaan mein nahi bas mere area mein hi curfew lag gaya ho. Bas baahar jaane ka man hi naa kare.
Baithe baithe maine ek almari poori saaf karli. Saaf safai ka mood itna zabardast ban gaya tha ki bas poocho hi mat. Saara kuch jama diya tha ek din mein. Par ab bhi dil bechain. Aisa lag raha tha, bahut kachra bhara hai. Kahi saaf-safaai ki aur bhi zaroorat hain. Phir khayaal aaya ki mann ki almaari kitne hi dino se nahi kholi thi. Chalo aaj iski bhi saaf-safai ho hi jaaye.
Mann ki almaari kaafi badi si thi. Itne saalon ki, memories, experiemces vagaere sab iss ek almaari mein jo bhare pade they. Maine saaf safaai shuru ki. Ek shelf mein kaafi saari taaza experiences ki potli padi thi. Jab woh kholi, dekha kuch experiences khatte ho gaye they. Shaayad isliye jab bhi akeli baithti mujhe hardam khatta sa swaad mooh mein aata. Unki wajah se baaki jo meethe experiences pade they, woh bhi khatte hone shuru ho gaye they. Maana jab aap bazaar mein phal khareedne jaate hain, kuch phal kabhi kharaab bhi nikalte hain. Toh hum kya karte hai? Jald se jald unhein dustbin mein phenk dete hain. Unse doosrein phalon ka bigadne ka khatra rehta hain. Pata nahi kyon, man ki iss almaari mein maine yeh khatte experiences ab tak jamaa karke rakhe hain. Inhein toh pehle hi din phenk dena chahiye tha. Shaayad yeh isliye padey they kyonki maine man ki almaari kai dino se saaf nahi ki thi. Haan isi wajah se yeh hua hoga. Toh about kya, maine unn saare experiences aur unse joodi saari memories ko ikkatha kiya aur ek bade se dustbin mein jaakar phenk diya. Achaanak se man thoda halka mehsoos hone laga. Shaayad ab meri zindagi mein kuch naye expereinces ke liye jaga bani hai.
Aise karte karte maine saari almaari chaan mari. Kitni jagah aise hi kai experiences maine jamaa kar rakhe they pata nahi kyon. Kai experiences aur unki memories inti purani thi ki unpe dhool jami hui thi. Jab unpe se main dhool hataati tab pata chalta ki arey yeh to woh wala experience hai jo mujhe ab shaayad yaad bhi nahi hain.
Phir waqt aaya, man ki almaari ki tijori kholne ka. Bahut darr lag raha tha. Pata nahi kya kya bharaa hoga yahan. Pata nahi kya kya maine barson se sambhaal ke rakhaa hain yahaan. Aur jab yeh sab baahar niklega, kya main issey sambhaal paaongi? Khair aaj saaf safaai ka din hain, toh tijori bhi saaf toh karni hi padegi. Toh kya tha, bas maine ishwar ka naam liye aur dhire se darte hue tijori khol di. Kaafi dhool jami thi tijori mein. Ab mujhe yaad bhi nahi tha kya rakha tha issmein sambhaalkar. Itni dhool thi ki maine ek geela kapda liya aur har ek cheez jo rakhi thi ussey ghis ghis kar saaf karna chalu kiya. Jaise hi pehli cheez par se dhool ki chaddar hati, maine dekha woh ek choti si nanhi si gudiya thi. Jo bilkul meri tarah hi dikti thi. Arey haan, phir yaad aaya ki yeh gudiya maine apne haathon se banaai thi. Issey maine bahut hi sundar aur hamesha hasti rahe waise banaaya thi. Aur haan yeh gudiya ki khaasiyat yeh thi ki yeh hamesha gungunaati rehti thi. Aise kar karke kaafi saare khilone nikle meri tijori se. Ek hawaaijahaaz, jo mujhe door sair karne ki yaad dilaata tha. Mere ghoongroo. Mera multicoloured chashma. Woh sundar sa chota musicbox...
Phir waqt aaya meri uss tijori ki woh choti tijori kholne ka. Main wait hi nahi kar paa rahi thi yeh dekhne ke liye ki usmein hoga kya. Toh maine phatak se woh kholdi. Wahan ek chota sa box rakha tha. Bas ek hi box tha. Sundar, safed silk coatingwala box. Mujhe yaad aa gaya ismein kya maine sambhaalke rakha tha. Maine ek lambi saans li aur halke se uss box ko khola. Chamakte hue motiyon se wahan pade miley mujhe mere kuch sapne. Aaj bhi woh usi tarah chamak rahey they jaise maine unhein kai saalon pehle rakha tha. Lekin ye saade moti nahi they. Unko maine apne haath me liya. Haath mein lete hi ek ajeeb si garmaahat mehsoos ki maine. Waise hi garmaahat jo shaayad aapne apni maa ke haatho mein feel ki hogi jab bhi woh aapke sir pe haath pherti hai. Ek sukoon bhari garmahat. Ek aisi garmaahat jo aankhon ko nam karde. Main kayi ghanton tak un sapno ko haatho mein liye wohi baithi rahi.
Pata nahi kyon itne samay se maine man ki almaari kyon nahi kholi thi? Pata nahi rozzmara ki zindagi mein, paise, naam, shohrat kamaane ki daud mein main kaise bhool gayi ki mere paas sabse naayab, sabse invaluable, sabse precious cheez already se hi thi. Meri almari ki sabse chotiwali tijori mein maine meri life ki sabse invaluable poonji jamaa kar ke rakhi thi.. woh safed moti, mere sapne. Jinhe aaj bhi haath mein lete hi garmaahat mehsoos hoti hain. Yehi garmaahat, unke aaj bhi zinda hona ka saboot hain.
Din dhal gaya hain. Maine meri saaf suthri man ki almaari kuch ghanton pehle bandh kar di hain. Par iss baar maine uske darwaze par taala nahi lagaya. Maine sapno ko waapas us chote se bakse mein sambhaal ke rakh diya hain. Par unki garmaahat ab bhi mere haathon mein mehsoos hoti hain....
Hichkichahat life ko kitni interesting banati hain. Jab aap
kissise se milte hain, pehli baar, aap kai choti choti cheezon mein hichkichate
hain. Agar maine aisa kahaa aur ussey bura lag jaayega toh? Kya mujhe yeh karna
chahiye? Woh mere bare mein kya sochegi wagera wagera. Kuch logon ke saath
rishta sirf hichkichahat par bana hota hain. Na hum unhein mitaane ki koshish
karte hain, aur na who ussey kam karne ki… Jaise ek badi si deewar ho do logon
ke beech. Aur shaayad who rishta ussi deewar pe tika ho. Deewar na ho, toh
shaayad who rishta bhi na ho.Par
kuch log hotein hain, jo bas chand mulaakaaton mein, ya kabhi kabhi chand
ghanton mein, ya kuch baton se humaare is tarah kareeb aa jaate hain ki who
hichkichahat jaise pigal si jaati hain. Kabhi kabaar to sirf ek joke, ya sirf
ek touch hi kaafi hota hain uss deewar ko giraane ke liye. Aur achanak aisa
lagta hain jaise hum ek-doosre ko kaafi arse se jaante hain… Shaayad yeh uss
kshan se aata hain jab hum sochte hain ki hmmm.. yeh bilkul mere jaise hi hain
to phir deewar ki zaroorat hi nahi hain. Kabhi aaine aur apne beech kisi deewar
ko mehsoos kiya hai aapne? Ya phir
uss soch se ki yeh kaafi alag hain mujhse. Yeh apni jagah theek hain aur main
apni jagah sahi. Na mujhe ussey badalni ki zaroorat hain na uske liye mujhe
badalna padega. Hum dono baraabar hain, aur ek hi saath jee sakte hain…
Jab Hichkichahat ki who deewar gir jaati hain. Toh uski kalpana
bhi funny ho jaati hain. Phir jab hum milte hain toh aksar aisi baatein kartein
hain ki, pata hain jab hum pehli baar mile they toh mujhe to laga tha tum kuch
waise they, aur yeh maatra ek hansi ka topic ban jaata hain. Chahe jo bhi ho,
hichkicahat ka hona, ya phir uss deewar ka ekdum se gir jaana, life ko kaafi
interesting banaata hai. Nahi?
Un dino hum cycle bhaade pe liya karte they. Ek chhota sa
garage hua karta tha, actually shaayad ussey garage nahi keh sakte. Un dino
mere area se dharavi ke liye ek walkway bridge hua karta tha. Usike neeche ek
choti si jagah mein hua karti thi toni ki cyle ki dukaan. Aap uss bridge ke
paas jaate, aur aapko door se hi dher saari cycle baahar mooh karti dikhaai
deti. Toni ke paas saari kism ki cycle hua karti thi. Badi,choti yahan tak ki
tricycles bhi. Sabse zyaada chalti
thi who thi BMX cycles. Sunday ko Tv par uski ads bhi bahut baar aati thi. Par
meri jo favourite cycle thi who BMX nahi thi. Who ek purani si blue colour ki
cycle thi jiska naam bhi mit gaya tha. Mujhe who isliye pasand thi kyonki who bas
bilkul meri height ki thi. Jaise mere liye hi banaayi gayi ho. Garmi ki chhuttiyon
mein har roz cycle chalaane ki
permission milti thi. Atthani mein aadha ghanta, aur ek rupaiye mein poora ek
ghanta. Meri mummy uss mamle mein kaafi dildaar thi. Harroz hamein ek rupaiya
milta tha cycle chalaane ke liye. Aur phir kya, pocket mein do khanakti athhani
daali aur shaan se chal pade toni ki dukaan ke liye. Lekin kaafi dafa aisa hota
tha ki aap toni ke paas pahunche aur bas tabhi hi koi bachcha aapki
favouritewaali cycle lekar jaa raha hota tha. Aap ussey rok toh nahi sakte they
kyonki is cycle pe uska bhi shaayad utna hi haq tha jitna aapka. Who atthani
deta, aur aadhe ghante ke liye cycle uski ho jaati. Shaayad aaj apne mashooq ko
kisi aur ki bahon mein sochkar jaisi feeling aati hain, uss samay woh feeling aisi
hi kuch hua karti thi. Phir kya, aapke paas toh ek hi ghanta hai, toh aap phir
koi bhi doosri cycle uthaate they aur round maarne nikal padte they. Par phir
agle din, toni ki dukaan khulne se pehle hi wahan pe pahunch jaate they. Jaisi
hi dukaan khuli, bas jhat se apni cycle ko pakad lete they aur ek rupaiya jhat
se toni ke haath mein thamaa dete they. Jaane ke waqt who kalwaala bachcha aata
tha, aur aap seena phulaakar apni cycle ko kasskar pakde hue uske saamne se
gujarte they. Phir chalaane mein jo mazaa aata tha, who shaayad apni khud ki
personal cycle chalaane mein bhi na aata hoga…
Rule yeh tha ki toni ke paas se cycle bhaade par lo, phir
apni galli mein jaake chalao taaki mummy ki nazar hardam aap par tiki rahe.
Kaafi baar mummy apne rasoikaam mein busy ho jaati thi. Aisa mauka haath mein
aaya nahi aur bas cycle lekar un galliyon ki taraf chal diye jahan par aapka
jaana allowed nahi tha. Kyon? Kyonki who galliyan dharavi ke nazdeek thi aur
wahan choriyan bahut hoti hain. Waise wahan chalte hue darr lagta tha, par jab
cycle par they, socha karte they ki aa jaane do chor ko. Aaya toh cycle itni
tezz daudaani hai ki who kabhi pakaad hi na paaye.Iss khayaal mein kuch gazab ka romanch tha. Aur aise palon
mein ek gazab si azaadi mehsoos hoti thi.
Aaj shaayad apni gaadi mein
bhi main kuch aisi bastiyon se gujarti hoon jahaan choriyaan bahut hoti hain.
Par mujhe who azaadi nahi mehsoos hoti. Balki ek darr sa bana rehta hain. Kuch
anhoni hone ka darr. Jab main
sochti hoon tab aisi kuchh khaas cheez khayaal mein nahi aati jiske khone par
mujhe bahut hi dukh hoga. Phir bhi ek darr bana rehta hai. Shaayad bachpan mein
kuch khone ka dard mehsoos nahi kiya tha toh kuch khone ka darr bhi nahi tha…
Jo tha, who thi khuli sansein, thandi hawan aur haathon mein apni favourie bhaade ki cycle…
I still like to chase butterflies I still like the old woman and her hut on the moon I still like to jump around when I am happy I still fall in love with every person who makes me happy I still like riddles, long, short weird riddles I still dream about the stars and about reaching them I still like when Jerry fools Tom I still get scared when I am alone I still think every christmas Santa comes doen and distributes gifts to little children I still like to make bubbles I still think everyone who calls you a friend, is your friend I still like painting a house a sun and birds I still like nice pink candyfloss I still like to play... anything I still like to dance in the first rain...
Kabhi kabhi kuch tasveerein aapke saath rehte rehte badi ho jati hai. Agar vo tasveer, tasveer na hokar ek aisa vyakti hota jiske saath aap aaj bhi baithkar har shaam chai peete hain, toh who shaayad abhi bhi utni hi hoti. Phir ek vaqt aata hai, ki who tasveer itni badi ho jaati hai, ki ghar mein har bulaye- binbulaaye mehmaan ki nazar sabse pehle ussi par padti hai. Aap chaahe ya na chaahe who pooch hi lete hai… yeh kya hai? kya haal banaa kar rakha hai?
Maine bhi ek aisi hi tasveer apne ghar ke drawing room ke beecho beech sajaa kar rakhi thi. Main keh sakti hoon, ki yeh mere zindagi ki sabse sunder, sabse adbhoot tasveer rahi hai. Best days of my life.Par ab sochti hoon ki, issey main ek sandook mein sambhalkar rakh doon. Uss din, maine apne sandook mein uss tasveer ko daalne ki koshish ki. Par woh uss sandook mein jaa hi na paayi, jaise shaayad main tumhaari zindagi mein kabhi sama hi naa payi…
Pata hi nahi ki who tasveer utni badi ho gayi, yaa mera sandook chota...
I went to an astrologer and he said my life will change after May. May came and went. Life remained as it is. So I went to him again and he said my stars will change after August for sure. August is half gone. Life is still the same. Absolutely the same! But my stars have changed now. They are telling me that I should change the astrologer.
Walking through a road once traveled was an experience I can't forget. I saw a younger me saving up money for a week to watch a film, i saw a younger me seeing the right column of a menu card and deciding what to order for lunch. I saw a younger me with dreams in her eyes. Dreams to make it big, dreams to conquer the world. Dreams... they give you strength.. strength to fly. Dreams ignite passion. But sometimes passion makes you vulnerable. Because in passion everything matters. Every little thing, every little detail matters.
I saw the roads I had traveled and I have forgotten now. I saw the people I had met who are long lost. I saw the strangers who had helped me when I was lost. I saw the steps i took to reach where I am today. It was humbling. Simply humbling. I wish I could dream again. I want to fly again.
Kal raat ko karvat badalti rahi. Par neend nahi aayi. Neend aa jaati toh shaayad sab kuch theek ho jaata. Swapn sa. Par zindagi ki sacchai ki thand lagti rahi, aur uss thand mein theethoorte hue main neend ka swapn dekti rahi.
Kai sawaal Ek ke peeche ek, Apne turn ke liye, Ek lambi kataar mein ghanton khade rehte.
Kaise ho? Kya kar rahe ho? Kya sardi hain wahaan? Kya wahan bhi tumhaari naak par pasina rehta hain? Kya aaj tumhaare aasmaan ka chand utna hi sunder hain jitna mere aasman ka? Meri yaad aati hain…? Vagera Vagera.
Baaton ka silsila thamta hi nahi tha…
Tum mere har shabd ko jaante the, Har shabd ke arth ko pehchaante the, Aur kabhi kabhi jo shabdon mein nahi kehti Us baat ko bhi tum jaan lete the.
Kitna kuch kehna tha Kitna kuch sunna tha Saare shabdon ko jodkar bhi Hamaari baatein adhoori reh jaati
Aur aaj … Phir phone pe baat hui Kai dinon ke baad
Sawaal aaj bhi kai saare the. Kuch wohi purane, kuch naye se Kuch kehna the, Kuch sunna tha.
Par phir ek shor mein tumhaari awaaz dhoondhli si padti chali gayi Shaayad bheed apna kaam kar rahi thi Aur waqt apna...
I was talking to a friend of mine who told me that whatever you do, you should never go wrong when you cast yourself in your own life.
Everyone's trying to cast themselves in a role in their life. Someone is the cool one, someone the cute one, someone is matured one, the funny one, talented one, alternative, straightforward, arty, delicate,strong,sexy,tomboy,carefree, pseudo-intellectual and the list goes on. We dress accordingly, behave accordingly.
I wonder what the world would be without these archetypes. Less interesting... Maybe. More honest... Maybe..
Maine apne aangan mein ek chota sa paudha lagaaya tha. Harroz usey main thoda thoda badhta dekhti. Acha lagta hain jab aapke khudke haathon se boya hua ek chota sa beej dheere ek sunder se paudhe ka roop lene lagta hain. Phir naye patte aate hain, choti choti kaliyaan aur phir rangbirangi phool. Saara aangan un phoolon ki khusboo main mehekta rehta. Kal raat ko zor se baarish hui thi. Subah dekha toh mera woh pauda bah gaya tha. Usne baarish se jhoonjhne ki koshish zaroor ki hogi.. Shaayad usne mujhe yaad bhi kiya hoga aur shaayad mujhe bulaane ki bhi koshish ki hogi. Kal raat ki zordar baarish mein main ussey sun nahi paayi. Agar main ussey sun paati bhi toh bhi kya main us paudhe ko bacha sakti thi? Shaayad nahi.. Shaayad woh sirf kuch hi dino ke liye meri zindagi ko mehakane aaya tha.
I will go and meet the sea one day The sea... Vast Open Deep Pure
And when I meet him, I will ask him Did you also wait for me, like I waited for him... all the time I am scared he will say he never waited for me. I am scared he will say he didn't even know I existed.
Maybe I wont need to ask him. Maybe I will be so happy meeting him that nothing would matter, No past, no future Nothing will matter Maybe I will find him waiting with open arms Just waiting to embrace me...
And when I meet the sea one day I will tell him about everything. About the lands I traveled About the people I met About the stories I heard About the sorrows I lived About the nights, the long dark lonely nights About the mornings, beautiful virgin mornings.
Or maybe when i meet the sea one day I wont have to say a word. Maybe he will know...everything. And we will just silently embrace each other
Once upon a time, there was land far far away. It was a land like no other. It was a land full of magic called Hoolaland. And in Hoolaland anything was possible. The trees could sing, the animals could talk and the fishes could fly.
In this land of magic, lived a little housefly called Rooshi. Rooshi was a good fly. He would always listen to what his mother had to say. But Rooshi was sad. He had a secret wish, a wish that even momma fly did not know off. Rooshi wished he was a star, up above in the beautiful sky of Hoolaland. He would often stare at the twinkling stars from the window of her little house near the woods.
One night when Rooshi was going to bed, Momma fly told him a story of Flyosko, the first fly who discovered Hoolaland. Flyosko was a small housefly living in a city by the garbage dump. Flyosko had a dream. A dream about a place where there was ample food for everyone and no danger from humans. So one day Flyosko left in search of a land he did even know existed. After days of wandering, his wish was fulfilled as he finally discovered the magical land of Hoolaland.
“Momma if you wish for something do you surely get it?”, Rooshi asked his mother
So Momma fly said, “If you want something, you just wish for it really hard”
After she said that, Momma fly put Rooshi to sleep. But Rooshi was not sleepy today. He was thinking about Flyosko. Suddenly, Rooshi decided that if ever he wanted to be a star, like Flyosko he would also have to wander and search for the place where a star was born. He turned and saw Momma fly was fast asleep. He kissed her goodnight and left for the deep dark woods.
The deep dark woods of Hoolaland had a life of its own. Momma would often tell Rooshi about the dangers that lay in the deep dark woods, and that a fly should never go into the woods. But there was no looking back. The woods were the only place he could find out about the place where a star was born.
As he kept flying, the woods kept getting denser. Suddenly Rooshi heard someone laugh.
“Ehahahah EEhahahahah”
Rooshi got scared. From nowhere a witch on a broom appeared in front of him. She was really old and ugly. She asked, “ Rooshi, where are you going? The woods are not a safe place for little ones like you, especially after night falls my dear. I know where you are going; you want to go to the place where a star is born. Come with me, I will take you there”
“Oh really?” Rooshi jumped out of joy. But then he remembered what Momma fly used to say about witches. She would always say that one should never to trust witches.
“I will find my way. Thank you”
The witch laughed and said “If you can’t find it, just say my name aloud three times, and I will be there little one to help you. My name is Prialla. Ehahahaha”
“I will do that” said Rooshi, as he started flying ahead. He had always heard about the wicked witches but never seen one before. As he was flying, Rooshi could hear music. He identified it as the musical crickets that would sing in the night. The music of the crickets was very soothing as Rooshi merrily started going deeper and deeper into the woods.
“Tabadak, tabadak, tabadak"
Rooshi thought it was a horse and started looking around. He was not completely wrong. There came a beautiful white unicorn from behind the trees.
“Hey Mr Unicorn. My name is Rooshi. I live outside the woods. Uhh.. I want to be a star and was looking for the place where a star is born. I was wondering if you could direct me there.” said Rooshi.
The unicorn laughed aloud. He said, “ In this land of Hoolaland, there are creatures who have magical powers and there are creatures who don’t. So if you are born ordinary, you will remain so all your life”
“I will work really hard and learn how to be a star”,said Rooshi.
“Some things cannot be learnt. You need to be born with it. You are just wasting your time you kiddo” saying that the unicorn turned and galloped away.
Rooshi was quiet disheartened hearing that. But he was not to lose hope. He was very thirsty by now. He started looking around for water, but he could not find any. After a few minutes of flying, he could hear sound of gurgling water. He started flying frantically in that direction. Suddenly he came upon a stream of crystal clear water. In the moon’s gentle light, the stream looked as if it were a thousand silver ribbons floating away with the wind. Rooshi bend down to drink the water. The water was nice and sweet. He drank a few sips. Just then he heard a sound again
“ Yippeedippeedooo”
He looked and he saw a beautiful mermaid in front of him. She was looking right at him.
“Yippeedippeedoo I say”. Rooshi didn’t know what she was trying to say.
“Oh I am sorry. In our mermaid land that’s how we say hello. Yippeedippeedoo. I am Scarlett. You looked troubled and sad. Nobody should be sad. I like happy people. Is there anything that will make you happy?”
“Oh yes”, said Rooshi. Do you know where a star is born?”
“ Stars? Yes stars. They twinkle in the sky. Magnificent. I like stars. Stars make me happy. I like happy people. But I don’t know where a star is born. Sorry.”
“Ok” said Rooshi sadder then ever before.
“Anyway it was nice meeting you. I have to go. I have to swim across this stream that will lead me to a river that goes and joins the big wide sea. The thought of big wide sea makes me happy. I like to be happy. Everyone should be happy. Ciao. Hope you find your place soon.Yippeedippeedoo. ”
And the mermaid swam away. As Rooshi sat by the riverside, a tear fell in the water and created a few ripples. He rubbed his eyes and realized they were moist. Maybe the Unicorn was right. Magic doesn’t happen to everyone. You have to be born special. Maybe he was not special enough. He was just an ordinary housefly. He was not Flyosko. Maybe he should have
never dreamt of something so impossible.
He wished he had listened to his mother and not come into the deep dark woods. Here he was tired, hungry, without his mother and still an ordinary fly who did not know his way home. Suddenly his eyes started getting heavy.
Little did Rooshi know that when he was crying, there was a fairy called the night fairy, who was sitting on the moon and watching him. She was the kindest and the most beautiful fairy in Hoolaland. She came down to little Rooshi who was fast asleep by now. She reached out to the moon and pulled out some moonlight in her hand.
Rooshi opened his eyes. It was still night and he was still by the riverside. He saw a beautiful fairy standing in front of him. Something was different. He was glowing brightly like fire in the darkness. But he was not up above the sky. Was he a star? He was really confused.
The fairy saw his confusion and said, “You are not a star”
“ Oh I am not? But I am glowing?!”
So the fairy said, “You are not a star. But you are not an ordinary fly anymore. You don’t have to be born special. You just have to search till the time you find it. From today onwards, people will know you as a firefly. So everyday when the moon rises and the stars come out in the sky, you will also twinkle, not in the sky but down here close to the earth. You will always keep reminding little children that if you truly believe in magic, it really happens…”
Sometimes we stop seeing people. You see them, you hear them but you don’t really listen to them. Why? Maybe because you are thinking whether you left the geyser on in before leaving, or that the maid will be coming in an hour and you need to rush home soon, or maybe you are plainly lazy. Sometimes people ask for help in their small subtle ways, but you are too lost in your own world to realize that they do. I,like anyone else, have been living in my cocoon since a long time now...thinking of nothing in particular, at least nothing really that important or urgent. Today when I was talking to a dear friend, suddenly I happened to see her and I felt that in the past two hours that we were together, I hadn’t really noticed her at all. Not that I did not pay attention to what she was saying, but I had not given her my 100% either. Sometimes the world inside your head becomes more real then the world outside and that’s when we stop living in the moment.
Once there was a dancer. She was as beautiful as beauty to get.When she danced, the whole universe would lend itself to be a part of her dance. When she danced, the raindrops would fall slowler to enhance her rhythm. The frogs would croak and the birds would chirp to form a harmonious melody for her. She would dance to the rhythm of the waves; she would dance tothe rhythm of the seasons. Sometimes as smooth, as a fish in the river and sometimes as fierce as an erupting volcano. She had a lover, a secret admirer who was always with her. When she moved, the wind would gently caress her body and then the savage wind would run wild in the forests for days after that.
One day the dancer was by the riverside. The wind brought her a few notes of music from deep within theforest. As soon as she heard the notes, she got mesmerised and started running frantically into the forest with the wind following her closely. Suddenly she found herself in front of a handsome young man playing his flute. He was lost in the world of his own music oblivious to her presence. Her body started swaying to his tune.
He played and she danced. He kept playing for days together, and she never stopped even once. Sometimes her feet would bleed, her eyes would cry but she could not feel the pain. She danced intoxicated by his music.The musician’s breath would escape his lips into the flute. The flute would humbly oblige to this union and create beautiful notes. The wind would carry these notes to her. Sometimes the musician would play a soft tune, and her body would move freely to it as if she were a feather floating away with the wind. Sometimes when the musician would be reach a ferocious climax of his melody she would be found swirling swiftly around him as though she were a whirlpool with the musician as her centre. The musician played the flute and his music played her body.
One day the musician opened his eyes. He was enchanted to see a beautiful dancer dancing to his tunes.Looking at her dance so gracefully, he fell in love with the magic of his music. The dancer was in love as well…in love with with the musician. And the wind was always in love.
Days, weeks, months passed by. Then suddenly, one day the musician opened his eyes and realised that he couldn’t play anymore. He had lost his music. He looked at the dancer who was still dancing in her own world, yet to realise this. Ashamed to face her, he took his flute and went away… in search. He was never seen by anyone ever again. The dancer still doesn’t know he’s gone. She dances away… in love. But there is no forest there anymore. It’s a dry desert now… a desert that is known for its wild sandstorms.
