An Antithesis to Idea, Philosophy & Enlightenment.

 

An idea taught you to avoid people who say they love you because their claim of love is not love.

An idea taught you to deliberately ignore people who claim to love you in their most honest human form.

 An idea became a shelter for those who are emotionally cold & shunted. Who avoid being intimate at any cost because it reveals the truth they avoid facing.

A philosophy makes them so objective that they don't see humans anymore; all they see is biology, chemistry, physics, and mechanical processes and the assimilation of all of them.

An idea, a philosophy that keeps them so busy and occupied that they could deliberately choose not to be with people who need their closeness as a cornerstone of their life; how far is it justified?

 It is a philosophy that justifies their being emotionally numb, unavailable, closed, uncaring, and unloving in human ways. Still, it's available in mechanical ways, like a cold patch of ice in winter, like a hot iron rod in summer.

An idea took away the best years of their lives. It sold them the highest ambition and work, at the end of which they became something but not human. They are not able to feel anything. They read all philosophers and great literature. They are intelligent, can compete with AI, can replace a logic machine, are rational, and are everything but not human. They are a highly sophisticated showpiece brought from an elitist showroom.

 

But they are proud of it; they never had a space for an anti-idea.

 

 They may not feel anything for you, but they do remember your name. Isn't that great?

 

 They may abandon you when you need them most or if you challenge their core philosophy, but they read your books. Isn't that awesome? What could have been better?

 

That is what happens when you justify all injustice done in the name of fundamentals. You know something is wrong, but you own the idea so much that now you become the idea, and you can't see your existence separate from it. Nothing in you will be left other than it; it became you, and you became it. You and your ego are one. However, you started your journey with the intention of separation. But now you are a fundamentalist, an aggressive extremist.

 

You know what's your problem? You have chosen the told path, you trusted someone authoritative more than yourself, you never dared to carve your path, you are not the only one who did it, you are just among the 90%, you remember it, you hate it so much, all your efforts were to be in 1%, but you lost patience & courage while designing your path, so you choose to follow blindly, it was easier.

 

But the problem is you declared your chosen path the only path, your narcissism gets its feed, and it never lets you see the other way out.

 

You suffocated, you cried, but you remained closed & slowly everything died. You became them, they became you, the superego superimposed itself. All became cold, and no warmth left.

 

Now you cry without tears; you can't love, you can't tell anyone that you love someone,  that you want to hold a human hand, you want to feel a human hug, that you want to sip a cup of tea made by a lover only for you, that you want a touch of lover on your cheeks, a gentle shoulder massage, you can't say that now, the one whom you could have said it is removed from your life by you only long ago because you find him to be of no use to you, that one is probably dead by now, because he was living for you and you for idea.

Ideas survive, but humans need humans to live; your curse is that now you can't die; you will live as much as the idea lives. You are immortal, and your chosen companions are immortal, too. You live in a world where there is no weakness, weirdness, absurdity, or inferiority; all are equal, and everything is fair and justified as per your ideas and philosophy because there is nobody to disobey because they are all killed, including your lover.

 

Beware, it's not a love story & it's open-ended. You can write your version. You have the right to do that, but can you do that? As far as I know, you are left with no feelings; you are enlightened; your definition of enlightened doesn't have such things; you might need to get it written through AI; try for it; it might be a best-seller, but I am not going to buy it. Sorry. Oh, sorry, no, sorry, you are enlightened, so there must be nothing to forgive.

And please don't give your epic narcissistic reply fed in you by your favourite philosopher. Oh! You don't exist for me. You know why you left me? Because my conversion was only 90% successful, and the rest was my individuality, which you couldn't stand. After all, you have specific needs and no compromise on 100; replacing the person is better. People are waiting to be converted; you would better look for them.

 

(The article is the subjective opinion of the Author).

My home is where you are.

 

I am only wasting my time with people and will not get anything from them. Never did anyone get anything.

Why don't I take my steps back?

What still holds me on the ground?

Why am I still here? Part of their games, knowing it's all false, yet amid them getting wasted, living a tasteless life, bored, pretending to smile, pretending to be excited, but inside exhausted with all these processes.

I know where they all are taking me, in their nasty world of meaninglessness, & suffocation & repeats, where no one has ever got any peace, where nobody is happy, and they all die like dogs.

Then why don't I turn my back to a doomed world of unhappy people seeking fake happiness by shallow means?

What am I expecting to get from all these?

Nothing, I guess.

I must return to my world, where my lover waits with the elixir.

I never belonged to this world of ambitions where everyone chased, but no one ever reached where nobody's quest was quenched.

Oh, my lover, waiting for me, I might need time, I am struck, you might think I am lost, but I am not.

I need a release; I need to be pulled by you; I can't do this without you.

While acting to belong here, I exerted so much pressure, slowly pull me out. Don't give up on me.

My home is where you are.

Take me away

 

Take me away from this world of myth,

Put me away somewhere on a hill, with your hand in my hand; I can wash clouds and clean stars,

Something in me has been missing for a long time—a vacuum,

I miss the freshness of the air as your smile & the wild sound of flowing rivers & fresh sunlight through my windows & the cloudy sky with hide & seek of the moon & a starry night view with the sound of crickets in the background,

 I miss the quietness of night & freshness of morning, 

It seems I haven't bathed & eaten & slept for months,

I miss the two of us in deep talk with no one to intrude, no one else listening,

I miss my privacy with you,

I miss my closeness with you,

It seems without you, I am only half-alive,

It seems I am already dead & my ghost is watching the repeat telecast where he is not allowed to be what he has been,

It seems we are living in different dimensions and can see each other but can't be together like we have been—a separation of worlds dimensionally different,

I am certainly not alive; I must be a ghost.

This life with its suffering must be a fiction.

कवि ऋषि हो जाना चाहता था

कवि ऋषि हो जाना चाहता था,

पर वो जगत में भी कुछ हासिल करना चाहता था,

उसे अभी भी लगता था कि उसकी चाहत जगत में पुरी हो सकती है,

लोगों कि तारीफों से उसके अधूरेपन को थोड़ा मज़ा तो आ जाता था, 

वो ये देख पाता था कि वो ख़ुद को अपनी चाहत का पीछा करने से रोक नहीं पाता,

पर हर बार अन्त में उसे मिलती वही पुरानी तड़प, बेचैनी, निराशा।

ऐसा होने पर वो फिर ऋषि हो जाना चाहता था,

वो ऐसे स्थान पर पहुच जाना चाहता था जहाँ कोई दुःख उसे छू ना पाए, 

वो उस दिन की कल्पना करता जहाँ वो शुद्धता के चरम स्तर को प्राप्त कर चुका है,

वो कामनाओं से उपर उठ चुका है। 

फिर इक दिन शीतल समीर किसी ख़ास की याद साथ ले आती है,

 उससे मिलने के लिए कवि का मन मचल उठता है, 

उस ख़ास की चाहत में वो दुनिया के श्रेष्ठ पैमानों को छुना चाहता है, 

अपने शब्दों के जादू पर दुनिया की मोहर लगवाकर उस ख़ास को दिखाकर खुश करना चाहता है, 

दुनिया शायद उसे मोहर दे भी दे, 

 वो ख़ास शायद उसे मिल भी जाए, 

पर कवि अब भूल चुका है कि वो कभी ऋषि हो जाना चाहता था।

Killers of the planet Earth.

 

 

Who is a hero, who is a villain, who is a god, who is Satan? In today's world, the boundaries are blurred; we are both the exploiter & the exploited, the Narcissists & the codependent; we have both neurosis & character disorder; we suffer from depression and are also high on dopamine, oscillating between two extremes, and our center is self-benefits, that's it. 

 

Today, man doesn't have feelings; we don't love or hate; we are all consumerists & capitalists eating the Earth; we are not loyal to anyone; we have no morality; it's all conditional; we are not fixed to ethics or religion, our center is to fill the unsatiable belly tank & expand. 

 

We are going nowhere yet busy; we are famous yet sad; we are successful & neurotic; we are spiritual & lustful; we are religious & discriminatory; we are scholars & also those bringing fragmentation; we talk peace by standing on the ground of the deadliest war, we are the degree holders with blood on hand & gun on the pocket. 

 

We clap on an eloquent speech on the mass killing of fellow humans based on some philosophy, and our public executioners are awarded public speaking prizes. 

 

While pretending to be a best friend, we simultaneously stab the back; while projecting to be the greatest well-wisher, we push our closed ones to unconscious patterns; with the promise of lifelong friendship, we say the biggest lies, honesty & cheating, companionship & backstabbing goes hand in hand.

 

We neither trust nor can be trusted; we are all fragmented, deluded, conditioned, violent, romanticists seeking love, peace, security, belongingness, inclusion, human rights, money, power, success, wealth, fame, & luxury; we all are on the same boat yet categorize the rest as others.

 

We are pathetic pieces of meat, just a bit of advanced species going to be extinct soon. We can die any day, but we live like the kings of the planet.

 

We forget & forgive, but together, we are killers of this planet, polluters, destructors, and share holders in the mass annihilation. Together, we are all dancing on our deathbed & we call it life. 

 

We are all the Killers of the planet Earth.

 

पहली सुबह सी।

 

मैं खो जाना चाहता हूं, सवाल-जवाब की दुनिया से परे कहीं पहुच जाना चाहता हूँ, 

जहाँ कोई जान-पहचान का ना हो, 

एक नयी दुनिया हो सबकुछ नया करने का मौका और जोश, 

एक पिंजरा है जो दिखता नही है, 

वहाँ कुछ उम्मीदें हैं और उससे जुड़ी आशा -निराशा,

इस खेल में कोई रस नहीं ये मेरे प्राण चुसता है,

मुझे अधमरा कर छोड़ता है, 

मैं ये याद रखना चाहता हूँ कि मैं जिंदा हूँ,

उस सुनहरे हरे सुबह की तलाश में जहां मन में पुरानी कोई याद ना हो, 

जो पूरी तरह से नयी हो एक नयी जिंदगी- पहली सुबह सी।

घुटन

कौन अपना है कोई नहीं,

इंसान को इंसान से प्यार नहीं होता, प्यार होता है उन्हें सिर्फ अपने स्वार्थ से, 

जिसे तुम अपना समझते हो वही तुम्हें अपने स्वार्थ के लिए घर से निकाल सकते हैं, तुम्हारा जीना मुश्किल कर सकते हैं, घुटन पैदा करते हैं, 

तुम्हें कोई नहीं समझ सकता, किसी को तुम्हें समझने में कोई दिलचस्पी नहीं, ना तुम सरकारी नौकरी हो ना जमीन का टुकड़ा, 

दुनिया हिंसा, नफरत और स्वार्थ से भरी है,  

जहाँ मन को शुद्ध करने का काम चल रहा हो वहाँ भी घटिया लोग मिल जाते हैं, जो छाती चौड़ी करके अपनी तुच्छ मान्यता का प्रदर्शन करते मिल जाएंगे, 

आत्मविश्वास के साथ कामना से ग्रसित आँखों से लोगों में भेद करते दिख जायेंगे, और उन्हें अपने भौंडेपन का जरा भी एहसास होता ना दिखेगा, 

इंसान को लड कर अपना महत्व हासिल करना होता है, नहीं तो सबसे उत्कृष्ठ जगहों पर भी खुद को सबसे उत्कृष्ठ समझने वाले तुम्हें ये साबित करने में कोई कसर नहीं छोड़ेंगे की तुम उनके और दुनिया के लिए कितने नकारा हो,

मुक्त पुरुष तो छोड दो मुझे तो आज तक कोई जीवित व्यक्ति भी ना मिला जिसे इंसान बोल सकूँ,  ना मैं खुद हूँ,  जानवर पैदा हुआ था इंसान बनने की कोशिश में लगा हूँ, 

पर उनका क्या जो खुद को शुद्ध-बुद्ध-मुक्त-पुरुष होने का दावा करते हैं,  मुझे तो गली के कुत्ते उनसे ज्यादा इंसान लगे,

हर इंसान बस बेसुध होकर बेहोशी में अपने स्वार्थ का पीछा कर रहा है, तुम्हारे होने या ना होने से उसे कोई फर्क़ नहीं पडता, 

हर इंसान अगर ईमानदारी से रोज सुबह उठकर अगर खुद से दो सवाल पूछे कि क्या मैं एक घटिया इंसान हूँ? और उससे भी ज्यादा जरूरी, क्या मुझे इंसान कहा जा सकता है?

 चाहे वो खुद को कितना भी मुक्ति का साधक मानता हो, तो शायद दुनिया थोड़ी सी बेहतर जगह बन जाए, 

मैंने खुद से ये ईमानदारी से पूछा और जवाब आया नहीं, अभी बहुत मेहनत करना बाकी है ।