शोर की उम्र होती है , ख़ामोशी सदाबहार है

जैसे कभी माँ-बाप किसी मसरूफ हो तो बच्चे को झुन्झुना पकड़ा देते है कुछ वैसे ही क्लिनिकल पोस्टिंग्स में आये स्टूडेंट्स को डॉक्टर्स हिस्ट्री लेने को बोल देते हैं |इ .न.टी की ओ.पी.डी में मैं एक बूढी महिला के पास पहुंची |वो आंटी बड़ी अजीब मालूम होती थी, अपने में ही कुछ कुछ बोल के मुस्कुरा रही थी| चेहरे पे झुर्रियों का जाल बना हुआ था , एक गेरुए रंग के चादर में लिपटी हुई एक कोने में बैठी थी | कई बार पूछने पर भी जब उन्होंने नहीं बताया तो पता चला की सुनने की दिक्कत है | अब यहा से मेरी दिक्कते बढ़ गयी , इशारों से कुछ पूछती तो आस पास वाले हंसने लगते और ज्यों ही मेरी आवाज़ थोड़ी तेज़ होती आस पास के इंटर्न्स घूरने लगते | किसी तरह ये कार्यक्रम आगे चला और वो मेरे  सवालों पे हाँ या न में सर हिला देती | बीच में मैं अपना पेन ढूंढने लगी तो उन्होंने पूछा की क्या चाहिए, पहली बार कुछ बोला उन्होंने| मैंने हलके से कहा कुछ नहीं पेन नहीं मिल रहा तो उसपे वो हंसी और बोली, " बाल में ठूस राख्या है तो कहा से मिलेगा "| मैं भी हंस दी पर मेरा माथा चकराया की इतनी देर से चीख चीख के पूछने पर कुछ बोल नहीं रही थी और ये सुनाई दे गया उन्हें| " अम्मा आपको सब सुनाई पड़ता है न तो आप क्यों आये हो "| वो घबरा सी गयी , थोड़ा रुक कर बोली ," मेरे बेटे से न कहियो , कुछ दिन पहले कुछ फंस गया रहा कान में बेटा और अपने आप ठीक भी हो गया पर बहुत आराम लगा मुझे उस वकत| बहु कोई काम करने को बोलती तो सुनाई नहीं पड़ता था , खुद खीज के चली जाती थी , न उसकी खङी खोटी सुननी पड़े थी | फिर एक दिन जब सुनने लगा अचानक ,मैं लेटी हुई थी और बेटा और बहु जो पीठ के पीछे बात करते थे सामने ही कर रहे थे | मुझे कहीं छोड़ आने की कह रहे थे ठीक होने के बाद, पहले लगता था के बहु ही बोलती हैं तो सुन जाती थी , उस दिन लगा की बहरा रहना ही ठीक हैं | ये लोग भी लगे हैं जगह जगह दिखवाने में , पूरे पुर्ज़ो में छोड़ेंगे ,ऐसे थोड़े न | बहुत अच्छा भी लगे हैं ऐसे रहने में , लोगो को देखने में , अपने बारे में सुनने में , चीज़े अलग लगे हैं | खुश रहूं हूँ पहले से ज्यादा और भेज दे ये जहाँ भी भेजना हैं इन्हे ,मुझे कोई दर न हैं , बस दर लगे हैं वो सुनने में के क्या बोलके भेजेगा मेरा बेटा , बस वो सुनना बड़ा भारी लगेगा , मुझ बहरी को बहरा ही छोड़ दे बेटी |"

कभी बेपनाह बरस पड़ी , कभी गुम सी है ,

ये बारिश भी कुछ कुछ तुम सी है ....

The tower of Silence

Faraz started scribbling albhabets when he saw the teacher coming towards him. " Why didn't you do it at home " Mrs Rajam began but suddenly stopped as something struck her mind. "Its ok dear ,complete it later, have your lunch now."
 " I asked mummy to help me with homework but she said she is tired. She is so tired of finding Cyrus , Miss."
She kept staring  at that five  year old in utter  surprise. The tried to say something but was out of words. Finally she decided it was wise to leave him with this version of the story. Cyrus was also one of his student ,elder brother of Faraz. The two were diametrically opposite personalities. Cyrus was naughty and adamant kid. Faraz on the other hand was obedient and reticent and had become even more silent after Cyrus went missing . He grabbed the pencil with his little fingers and colored another box on the last page of his mathematics notebook and counted the number of days.Twelve day had passed since Cyrus left the home with his red bicycle but didn't return home.
He looked at his ten to twelve watch and pretended to read the time. Cyrus always used to tease him " Do you even know how to read time. Not your fault your watch doesn't read time". His brother had a big green Ben10 watch which had ticking hands unlike his always reading the same time.  Faraz used to sometime wear that watch stealthily but the dial used to be too big for his tiny wrist. The seat next to him in the bus was vacant , his brother used to sit there. The conductor came and sat next to him after a while and started talking to a someone.
" What are those circular buildings. My mother said it is a temple for Parsi people . Why are there so many vultures on the temple roof." a girl said pointing out of the window.
" Its not a temple dear, its called a Dakhma, the tower of Silence . Those vultures eat the corpse that are left there by their families" said the conductor.
" Eww...but why ,don't you cremate the dead ones, or simply bury them"
" A corpse is considered impure not just physically on account of infection and decay but also because it is  swiftly colonised by evil spirits. Cremation or burial are unacceptable as they defile the land and the sea, my child'
The girl still seemed unconvinced and left as her stop came. The conductor turned to Faraz and saw him gawking at his face unblinkingly." what is a corpse" he enquired. After a long contemplation he fumbled " It is any  person who doesn't obey his parents and teachers.Those people are left here to be punished by God."
At dinner he started picking the vegetables from the rice and kept them aside in the plate. Her mother got piqued and scolded " Don't act like your brother now. Eat it all" . She stood up leaving her food unfinished. A few tears scrolling down her cheeks. He finished his dinner and went to do his homework. Her mother was lying on the bed. Asleep or still crying he couldn't tell. He opened his coloring book and looked out for crayons. Searched his bag twice and then thought of using his brother's. He had no courage to ask her mother so went by himself to the room downstairs and took out the colors from cupboard. Before bolting the room he saw a bicycle in one corner of the room. He removed the cloth covering it to find it was his brother's. One wheel was punctured and headlight was out of place. Red stain was camouflaged against the color of the bicycle.
He neither finished his homework nor did he sleep. He kept looking at the ceiling lying by her mother's side. He kept thinking about his brother. He was convinced that he wasn't lost, he was merely getting punished. He broke the bicycle afterall and never listened to mother. Maybe he should bring him back, mummy is also missing him now. Twelve days is a very long time . Cyrus must have understood by now. He would set him free from that tower and ask for his watch in lieu ,he planned.
The next day Mrs Rajam saw his incomplete homework and said she wanted to talk to her mother.He nodded not looking in her eyes and his fingers crossed behind his back. In the break he didn't talk to anyone and saved half of the lunch for Cyrus. While returning he asked the conductor to stop near the tower and said that her mother would pick him from here  today , ensuring his fingers were still crossed. The conductor first tried calling his mother but then left him there with a senior girl instructing her to wait until her mother comes. He told the girl that her mother was inside the tower and ran hastily away from the girl. She followed him up to a distance but soon backed her steps because of disgusting smell and macabre sight of vultures.
Faraz saw her walk away and walked ahead with a sense of victory. He banged the door several times but it had a large archaic lock hung on it. He cried the name of his brother several times but it all went unheard and unanswered. He tried to pass pieces of bread through the narrow crevice beneath the door and felt it being pulled from the other side. He waited there for several hours and continued calling his brother every then and now. The dusk swallowed the last streaks of sunlight and Faraz now got up from the door and ambled around the circular building.
 At one end of the tower at some distance he saw a pile of clothes and footwears and a shabby person rummaging the pile and pulling out stuffs. But when Faraz called out Cyrus the person quickly ran away. Faraz ran up to the pile with his little steps and tried to look for Cyrus in the distance. Maybe it was not him ,he thought ,trying to accommodate his eyes against the growing darkness. His eyes fell on a growing neon dial beneath the pile of clothes. The same green color, picture of his favorite cartoon character , but the glass of dial was shattered in pieces and hands weren't ticking anymore. Suddenly he heard his name being called out in a distance. One of those voices was that of his mother. The cries were growing nearer and louder. He picked up the glowing watch and threw his on the pile as per the agreement.
 What followed was a few weeks of efforts to read time, few months of sneaking a peek of the tower of silence through the window of the bus, few  years of coloring the boxes of a bunch of mathematics notebook but not counting them anymore to  the day when a page of some dictionary taught him what corpse meant....

The first grasp

The roster displayed the end posting marks of obstetrics and gynecology,
Messages flooding on the WhatsApp group about the attendance correction or who topped in theory.
There was not much I could remember of those 45 day posting.
But a memory that had left its imprints and was now more and more confounding.
The labour room filled with cries and shrieks,
Everyone in a hustle and a collective stress making me freak.
Class 11 the ' Birth ' chapter was always a source of intangible mirth,
But around me were bleeding vaginas, scary instruments, constant lamenting and torturous births.
Everything was still fine until a women with a macrosmic baby came to delivery bed,
The baby wasn't descending although it was hour since her waters shed.
Many exertions, maneuvers and numerous cinto infusion,
The baby still adamant to move inch down a station.
Meconium had passed and the conditions became tense,
One of the obstetrics climbed up the bed and starting pushing , things now making no sense.
However there was a crowning, your dark curly hair appeared,
Soon a episiotomy and instruments to pull your big heavy head geared.
Slowly but eventually you were out in one piece ,
Everyone from the doctor to nurses cussing you in relief.
The pediatrician soaked and dried but you remained taciturn throughout,
He placed you betwixed other babies in incubator, waking you up with their shouts.
You were twice their size but not half as lively as them,
Distressed by the long time trapped in cervical hem.
But then you made that puckered face and I tried to hear that silent cry,
You twitched your fingers as I noticed your each movement with pry.
You were back into colors and all the problems about to fathom,
I moved my fingers close to yours at a distance of Michaelangelo's creation of Adams.

You grasped it quickly and held it tight,
I am the first person you ever held, it struck me as light.
I know I overthink sometimes and try to increase situation's gravity,
At that point of time along with confusion I sensed an added responsibility.
A responsibility for you as I was the first on whom you put your trust ,
I'll never let you go said a emotional upheaval in me ,about to burst.
I felt as if you slightly opened an eye and smiled at me,
And before I knew your family took you and you left my finger free.
Idiotic or exaggerated whatever it may seem, some things should be left free from the realm of rationality;
I know that grasp was a unconditioned reflex ,a mere human physiology.
But it had given me a moment of tangible joy yet unrealistic imaginations,
And what are reasons after all nothing but most naive of all the superstitions...