Sunday, September 23, 2012

This for you, my daughter

Its a child who lets a mother be born and its in motherhood that a woman finds totality . And   I feel (regardless of son-fixation-syndrome so vociferously prevalent) it's a daughter that completes the portrait of a mother.

Daughter !! What a beautiful feel to be having a daughter. Bearing, giving birth to, nurturing, seeing a daughter grow, walk, run,  learn her first alphabets, her first game, washing and combing her hair, helping in her home work and making her sleep at night, watching her asleep with silent prayers for  her sound sleep so that she wakes up fresh, smiling, chirpy -all this come so natural to a mom. I salute all the moms  whose chief joy lies in finding their daughters safe, feeling secure, zealouly learning, reading, studying or taking part in activities.

I have closely seen how moms want their daughters to do and be and enjoy all that what somehow they themselves as daughters might have not; how they want to especially cook for them the varieties to enable them choose from despite little time at hands after energy sapping jobs ; how they hope for  all their dreams to come true through their daughters' grooming and growth; how with their fingers crossed they are almost always silently praying  for the well being and joy of their daughters.

And all this and all that daughters know too well, observe their moms minutely and say they may or may not but they do acknowledge sometimes with a vocal hug or tear soaked eyes or just-the-perfect-to-occasion smile. Daughters are always sensitive to what their moms do and they also feel they may never be able to do as much when they become moms but the sweet circle goes on generation after generation with little variance of love, care, affection in kind nor in degrees.

Every daughter misses her mom (and vice versa) notwithstanding the gap in communication with passage of time. There always exists a mute, uncomplaining, unconditional,unparalleled bond that neither the chinks of an era nor the worldliness of distances can ever impair.And the daughter and mom duo knows and can appreciate this because living without each other's love is not just possible .
Love you, my daughter, thanks for being there. Happy Daughters' Day.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया

मुश्किल सी घडी में

वक़्त की पड़ी छड़ी में

यादों की बेतार जुडती कड़ी में

नन्ही , बड़ी चोटों की झड़ी में

अक्सर मन है रुन्धाया

अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया ...

बड़े होने की यात्रा में

सुख , दुःख की घटती बढती मात्रा में

अँधेरे और रोशनी की कशमकश में

सच और झूठ की पेशोपेश में

अपनों ने यूँ है संभाला बचाया

कि अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया

इम्तहानो के दौर में

झुर्राते डराते शोर में

चुप्पी से ग्रसित भोर में

नियति पर ना चलते ज़ोर में

जब लगता है सब तानाबाना माया

ऐसे में अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया

हर शब् के बाद है सुबह , तम के बाद सहर

यही सच दुःख में भी नहीं बरपाता कहर

अज़ल की त्रास है समझे जाने की तलब

भर जातें हैं घाव अक्सर यूँ ही बेसबब

माँ की पुचकार ने जब जब सहलाया

सच ,अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया ..

रुका नहीं वक़्त अच्छा तो बुरा भी रुकेगा कैसे

तारी ही तो है दामन, सिलेगा नहीं भला कैसे

नज़र सीधी रहे उसकी तो कट ही जाता है वक़्त जैसे तैसे

बड़ों की सीख ने ऐसे जब जब समझाया

सच ,अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया ..

आओ बुन लें ख्वाब छोड़ दें ग़म को

गा लें, रक्स करें झंझोड़ दें तम को

रुक रही हो राह ए ज़िन्दगी तो चला लें मन को

तलाश लें जज़ीरे अपने, ,तराश लें फन को

जब जब उम्मीद का परचम है फहराया ..

सच , अपना बचपन बहुत याद आया

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

I salute you, my teachers

Let me bow before you and touch your feet and pay my obeisance to you. Were it not for you I fail to imagine what I would have been !

Lajwanti Behanji, my first teacher in Arya Putri Pathshala, Abohar (PB)-always so humble but commanded so much of reverence. Jamuna Behanji, who taught me for four years till fifth class-so very strict, hard working, tough task mistress. I still remember the flawless flow of running hand scribbling with such speed that we had to keep our gaze fixed to read and note the lessons which we were supposed to do only on rough note books then and later to learn and write them neatly with questions in red and answers in blue pen. No ball pens were allowed and how strictly the Takhti which all the pupils had to wash and apply 'gaachni' afresh daily and write there on with 'kalam' and black ink! A mistake in writing would mean a stick hit on hand and thank God, I never was rewarded thus. Only once in fourth standard when I scored six and half marks out of twenty in science, I won the hard stick on my back with a reprimand: your sister Archana scored twenty out of twenty and you !!! It still aches there, Behanji.

I salute you, Jamuna Behanji. Remember, how I would not stop playing with boys in the day of announcement of result for fourth class you deducted half a mark from my score and though I was bracketed first, was placed on second pedestal with a harsh message: This is punishment to Sumedha for playing 'kanchas' with boys. I still remember the tearful, head bowed Sumedha who vowed never to play 'kanchas' ever again. True, I learnt the hard way my lessons of life and I still continue to do so.

But I really remember the ambience of my first pathshala where we were taught daily 'Sandhya' and weekly 'Havan Yagna'.
I salute you Shastriji, my Sanskrit teacher in Govt High School, Abohar . I still can feel reverberation of Lata, late,latah/ latam late latah. I am thinking with reverence of you Prem Madam who tuaght me my first English alphabets and patted me when I got 96 out of 100 in sixth class. The memories of big 'Tallie da ped' under which we studied for three years are still fresh in my mind.
Savitri Madam and Rajinder Madam, I bow before you. When I was late one day and was made to stand in queue where you questioned each of us the reason for being late and how you had said on seeing me cry with humiliation for being late: ‘Oh, Sumedha is very sensitive’ and I didn't even know what this word meant. Later in the evening Neelam didi told me its meaning for the first time. I salute you, Tejinder madam and remember how passionately you taught us Bulle Shah and Sheikh Farid and Amrita Pritam. My PTI madam who taught me how to play Badminton and Table Tennis in class 7th as also to play side drum and flute for the Independence day and Republic Day celebrations, the memories I carry with me till date and how often when I am part of these celebrations, the recollections of good old days when we used to wear check shirts and white salwars make my eyes moist.
Gopichand Arya Mahila College, Abohar was my world in adolescence. I am indebted to you Madam Satish Jasuja for all my love for the Romantics I inculcated when you taught us Keats and Wordsworth. Meenakshi didi, you were my Economics teacher and when you gave examples of gulab jamun for teaching us Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility that exclusive smile writ large during serious teaching is something I would always cherish. And madam Pushplata, my English teacher for one year, I owe you a sorry as I showed the audacity to correct you on: 'et tu Brute,then fall Ceasar.' Howsoever favourite this line was to me, I shouldn't have done that in class, please forgive me. And Madam Usha Kiran, you tuaght us the Constitution of India and the Political Theories, thanks.
Yes, Madhurima Madam, I can hardly ever forget the way you directed 'Samajhdar Log' and led us to trek to Pindari Glacier. I was singled out once and dissuaded from becoming the Class Representative lest someone calls it partiality. I could half understand what you meant but the hurt got me a beautiful letter from Neelam didi: 'one has to be good and great not to nurse any bitterness.' And it assuaged my pain. And remember once you snatched my autograph book to scribble: 'You are the Sun who only gives..Can givers ever be beggars?' Thanks Madam, for teaching me many a lessons I still remember.

I shall ever remain grateful to Dr. DD Jyoti who taught us Linguistics. He was embodiment of sensitivity, empathy, delicacy of handling the matter and manner in teaching. Years after leaving the Panjab University, I cherished the expressions he used to teach intonation, accent and semantics. My mentor Pushpinder Syal madam, I shall ever remain grateful to you for not only un-knotting the complexities of history of English literature but also for teaching me Reiki and meditations. Thanks, ma'am.
I salute you Pitaji and Mammi for being the best teachers I could ever have right since the day I learnt to baby babble, play, read and write.
Ah! How can I leave you, dear dear Time, you have taught me the soft way, the hard way, the tough way and the easy way the things that have made me become whatever I am-good or bad and nasty, humble or egoist and self obsessed, loving or opportunist and practical-- Time Sir alone will judge !
Wish you all Happy Teachers' Day.