संगम विहार

आज कल कुछ ऐसे परिचय कराया जाता है,

नरक को नरक नहीं कहते अब..

संगम विहार कहके डराया जाता है.

७ रुपैये में रोलर कोस्टर ऑटो वाले भैया,

इन मशहूर गलियों में गालियाँ यूँ दौड़ाते है,

कुछ एक हड्डियाँ, कुछ एक पसलियाँ,

और कुछ एक मूड के टुकड़े,

गटर की नदियों में बहते चले जाते है.

रोज़ एक नए गड्ढे पे,

दिल को झटके देके मरवाया जाता है,

हाँ जी अब, संगम विहार कहके डराया जाता है.

सैकडों साइकिल, लाखों लोग,

चंद घड़ियाँ ट्रैफिक की हवस में.

बदहवास शोर, अन्दर भी, और बाहर भी.

सपनों में भी है बहरे होने का डर,

जी करता है, बन जाऊं नेता, खा लूं कसमें,

कुछ तो बदलूँ, एक रोड ही बना दूं,
फ़िज़ूल ही खून गरमाया जाता है,

कि अब, संगम विहार कहके डराया जाता है.

Dedicated to the potholes, stagnant sewer water, perpetual traffic, honking, ancient roads and drainage system at Sangam Vihar!... and also to the bravery of the people who are living there, knowing that if one day an ambulance/fire brigade is needed at that place, it might take 'quite a while' to reach..

Decipher

Eyes saw some things today,

unreal images moving in surreal haze.

And life that seems to stare back,

laughs at me for my ways.

Uneasy mind locks the images,

not to decipher, not to remember, not until a thousand few days!!

झिझक

झिझक सी है, फैसलों के दरमियान,

पलके छुपाये हुए है, ढाई  हज़ार आंधियाँ. 

कुछ धूल का फव्वारा छटे , तो कुछ बात बने,

कभी दोहरी, कभी अधूरी आँखे मलती ज़िंदगियाँ.

करीब

यकीन नहीं आता, जो तेरा अक्स

मेरे इतना करीब नहीं आता,

ये जानी-पहचानी चाल है नसीब तेरी,

यहाँ आ गए जहां..

कोई तरकीब नहीं आती,

कोई रकीब नहीं भाता.

दीवानापन

फ़िज़ूल ही सही, कुछ मदहोशी महफूज़ तो हो,

इस शहर की सहर को तकलीफ महसूस तो हो.

बहुत दम भरती है, जूनून-ए-सुकून का,

थोडा उसके दीवानेपन का जुलूस तो हो. 

The orange light.

The orange light filtered through his hair,

crawls in his eyes.

Smells me, and it tells me,

to drench in it and be unwise.

Fidgety.

I should have known. The lightness of 'the joy of doing nothing' does convert into heaviness, i.e. almost 9 times out of 10, it does. So, this 'nothing' has triggered a sort of a panic inside me. Being indecisive is something I've accepted as a manufacturing defect in me; however this time, I might be nearing a nervous breakdown. With the endless introspective and exasperating arguments clearing my throat everyday, I feel as clueless as a shadow of a bird in motion. Feeling Fidgety.

In his subtle brilliance.

In his subtle brilliance,

she secretly loathed herself.

A free thinker, an earnest soul,

he loved beyond limits or control.

She was a fountain, followed by a drought,

Demure but daring, sure but distraught.

In her turbulent vicissitude,
he quietly bathed himself.

Always moving, always leaping,
every inch in her, boisterous, million thoughts creeping.
He cherished the slow-pace, loved to linger,
Passionate but lost, an ambition-less singer.

dolce far neinte!

The sweetness of doing 'nothing'..Italians call it " Il dolce far niente"

That is the phrase that constantly rings in my head, ever since I learnt it from the 'disappointing' movie 'Eat Pray Sleep'..
It rings whenever I see Julie or Shilpi or Shersingh or even Tipsy, the familiar dogs, lazying around as if there is nothing that cannot wait.. whenever I see the friends in my colony religiously meeting in the evening for a drag here, for a game there, but more so for the charming banter of utter uselessness.. whenever I think of the kids at Ummeed spending light years playing marbles and gilli danda.. whenever I remember Jawahar Kala Kendra, Jaipur and the endless conversations mixed with coffees and cigarettes there.. or those long bus rides in Goa, where my mind was the always out of the window.. or the college days, where I actually got addicted to this sweetness.. not to my surprise, though!

So now it's that time again, yet another farewell.. yet another rusty cupboard of memories fixed in the heart.. yet another stretch of absolute nothing to do for a month and half, till I get selected in the Helen Keller Instt... yet another overdose of 'dolce far neinte'!

Not everything that makes you happy turns out to be love, just as not everything that makes you hurt turns out to be a mistake..

the usual uneasiness.

I am not sure what others do with it - if they try to cover it with a blanket of passiveness, or distract it with something delirious like a crazy movie or a crazy kiss, or if they sprinkle whiskey over it, or hug a pillow, or eat like wild boars over it .. whatever it is, I am sure nothing seems like a perfect solution to this uneasiness that grips you some days and makes you feel  as if there is something missing, something wrong somewhere but you can't put a finger on it.

It is strong enough to make you impulsive and take steps that may change your life (if you allow it, i.e.) and yet, so fragile that one whiff of alternatives and it sinks deep inside to come out at some other time, probably stronger. The uneasy thing about this uneasiness is that it's not unwanted, but it's not tempting either. You feel detached from whatever you're doing and a strange eagerness to break away so that you can unfold the mystery. But there's never enough evidence or hope that you'll succeed and so it seems worthless to stop.

So at the end of the day, to explain it to ourselves, we attach it to a reason that looks reasonable enough and go back to the usual, not knowing if the uneasiness actually faded or if we just taped some cement of reality on it.

Infidelity

There is a hole somewhere,
and the feelings leak from there.
Such truth in the eyes,
but I wonder, if there are other layers.

"Most people go to their graves with their music still inside them..."

Borrowed from "The Music Within". It is an OK sort of movie but it's this quote that probably meant I didn't completely waste those minutes. Given by Oliver Wendell Holmes, a famous physician plus author (and of course! I didn't know that before the movie).

In the movie, a professor is trying to make the kids understand what this means. He goes on to mention that: Most people die without discovering their own genius, without expressing their uniqueness that makes them special. I couldn't agree more.

Earlier in the day, I was having this debate about a careless remark someone made "Creativity doesn't really exist. Either all of us are creative or none of us." Being high on the Beethoven fever (I saw a movie about him recently), I fought back vehemently stating that only few people are capable of doing what Beethoven did, or for that matter Mozart or Van Gogh or Einstein or Vinci etc. How could we possibly be equally gifted in this 'creativity'!
But reflecting back, Why not! It might just be that all of us are born with some music, some unprecedented spark, but we probably never care to check. We find it so comforting to believe in our 'non-greatness', in our mediocrity, that we rather not push. We rather just live, a nice safe life, devoid of music from within. Sounds sensible enough!
But still the fact, that the statistics of such deaths of talent and of brilliance is overwhelming, is not a good sign. May be a sign of increased GDP growth but definitely not a sign of development.

फिकर

जाने क्या फिकर है

इस फकीर को

लगता है जैसे यह,

खिड़की से बाहर की

मायूसी को पहचानता है.

बीड़ी से लड़ते बुड्ढे में,

पान वाले की टेढ़ी हँसी में,

ऑटो वाले की झुर्रियों में,

सड़क के किनारे पलती बेहोशी में, 

साला! कौन-सा मोती छानता है!

नहाने जाता है तो

साबुन के बुलबुलों में खो जाता है,

दिन भर कितनों को धोका देता है

रात में नींद को,

धोका देते-देते शायद सो जाता है.

बोलता है बड़े जूनून से,

सुनने वाले भी भतेरे है

उसकी फिकर

बाहर है, उन सब चरसियों की समझ से ,

फिर भी, वो कहता है, "यह लोग.. मेरे है"

जाने क्या फिकर है

इस फकीर को

लगता है जैसे यह, 

खिड़की के अन्दर की बात

जानता है.

आइना दिखाता फिरता है 

दुनिया को

खुद की परछाई का भेद

कहाँ मानता है!

थोड़ी सी शिकायत है, मुझे दिल्ली की धूप से.

थोड़ी सी शिकायत है,

मुझे दिल्ली की धूप से.

थोड़ी उसकी ठंडी तबियत से,

थोड़ी उसके कच्चे रूप से.

थोड़ी ट्रैफिक की चतुराई से,

थोड़ी उसके संगीत से, 

थोड़ी गालियों की गहराई से.

और थोड़ी चौढ़ी सड़को पे,

चलते तंग दिलों की लापरवाही से.

थोड़ी कदम कदम पे बदलती बास से,

थोड़ी बसों की भयानक भीड़ से,

थोड़ी लफंगों की दिनों-दिन बड़ते विशवास से.

और थोड़ी कार की खिड़की पे ठकठकाती,

अधनंगी आस से.

थोड़ी बंद दरवाजों के पीछे आते शोर से,

थोड़ी चेहरों की झूठी चमक से,

थोड़ी कपड़ो के जूठे ज़ोर से.

और थोड़ी हँसी के पीछे छिपे,

अन्दर के सहमे चोर से.

थोड़ी सी शिकायत है,

मुझे दिल्ली की धूप से.

थोड़ी उसकी ठंडी तबियत से,

थोड़ी उसके कच्चे रूप से.

English translation :

I have some complaints,
against the Delhi's sun.
Some against her cold nature.
Some against her crude beauty.

Some against the wisdom of traffic,
Some against it's(traffic's) music.
Some against the depth of the curse-words.
And some against the thoughtlessness of constricted hearts,
walking on the wide roads.

Some against the stench changing at every footstep.
Some against the awesome crowd in the buses.
Some against the growing confidence of rogues.
And some against the half-naked hope
knocking at the car windows.

Some against the cries behind closed doors.
Some against the fake radiance of the faces.
Some against the half-eaten (something's that's already tasted, already used by someone else) dominance of clothes.
And some against the frightened thief inside
hiding behind all the laughter.

I have some complaints,

against the Delhi's sun.

Some against her cold nature,

Some against her crude beauty.

सपना देखा कि..

सपना देखा कि,

डूब रहे थे वो दोनों .

वो खुश भी थे, उदास भी.

कितने ही लोग नीचे झुके,

बचाने को,

वो खामोश भी थे, बदमाश भी.

बचाया न, न समझाया,

देर तक घूरा, फिर झटके से एक को उठाया.

एक पल में सब धुंधला सा गया,

सपना बिखर के बिस्तर पे आ गया.

कुछ असर चाय, और कुछ अखबार खा गया.

(About a bad dream, I saw today)

Cold virus

Like a snake, it moves inside,
biting, chiding, riding with pride.
It kills me for a second,
and then, I'm still alive, I reckon.
Hate this stomach pain, hate his guts,
tying me to the warmth of this laptop butts :(

Things that get missed..

In reverse chronological order :

• An old man with a white handkerchief on his head to fight against the sun comes to the bus stop and looks at me, turns and then stares at me with a confused look. I have music in my ears and things in my head, and a question for him in my eyes - "What's wrong??". He just smiles and in sophisticated English replies that "You have such sharp features. Beautiful eyes. Pardon me, but I thought you should know!" If I wouldn't have seen his cute missing teeth, when he laughed, I might have thought otherwise :)
• An autowallah catching me singing "Mai zindagi ka saath..." and smiling, dropping me to my stop and then not accepting money, saying "Rehne dijiye, yahan toh mujhe waise bhi aana tha.. aur India ne World Cup bhi toh jeeta hai!" and giving me a big grin before speeding off.
• An old women, asking me the numbers of bus passing, explaining the whole history of how women were never educated before Indira Gandhi, and how she met her in Ranchi, just days before she was shot dead by her own bodyguards. All this and more, in less than 5 mins.
• "You must be really trusting Delhites, leaving your bag like this". A man sitting next to me remarks while I was gone to get tickets. 
• A conductor shouting for a man to get tickets. The man doesn't respond. The conductor goes to him and shakes him, shouting. The man hustles to get probably the only 10 rupee note, and starts moving to the gate. The conductor tries to give 5 rupee back, the man jerks him off and tries to say something except no words come out, only the sound of 'failed speech'. He is deaf and mute. The bus stops in front of the National Institute for the deaf, he walks out. As he walks towards the Institute, he stamps his foot in bitterness and anger.

There are so many things that happens during the day but get missed in the small-talk during tea-break or during the nice walk with the friends or on that fb chat with a long lost friend or on the blog that hardly ever gets updated.. but sometimes I think, it's small things like these that turn the face of your whole day..and if allowed, even the face of your outlook towards life..

बूढ़ा पल

चीज़े होती है कुछ इस रफ़्तार से आजकल,
गुमसुम सा रहता है बीता हुआ पल.
शायद मालिक पेटी से निकाल ले उसे कल,
इस असफल आस में,
उसके सफ़ेद बाल आते है निकल.

एक दिन, बूढ़ा पल
पेटी से बाहर जाता है फिसल.

मचा देता है ज़हन में, अजीब सी हलचल.

अब न मालिक उसे संभाल पाए,
न खड्डे में डाल पाए.
रफ़्तार में पढ़ा दखल,
पन्ने पलट रहे है मालिक आजकल.

आदत अपनी लगा भी देते है.

चिढ़ा चिढ़ा कर सुइयां चुभा सी देते है!
फिर पास आके,
आँखों से गुदगुदाके,
हँसा भी देते है.

उनका गुस्सा इतना है कि,
मेरा सहम गया.
बेहिचक बेहिसाब,
जिंदादिल देख उनका,
मेरा रूखा-सूखा, मेरा रूठा-ऐंठा
अहम् गया.
सिखाने से सीखने वाला
बना ही देते है.
दिल का आइना, थूक से
चमका ही देते है.
फिर पास आके,
बातों में उलझाके,
आदत अपनी लगा भी देते है.

यह बच्चे नहीं,
ज़लज़ले है.
थमने को नहीं,
थामने को चले है.
ज़ोर इतना, कि सब्र,
कम कि बोल पाता है .
गरम है चाय इतनी,
कि शक्कर का कभी कभी
स्वाद ही नहीं आता है.
फीकी हो या मीठी,
गज़ब की ताजगी से हिला ही देते है.
गिराते है और फिर चुपके से

सर पे चढ़ा भी देते है.

फिर पास आके,
कानों में फुसफुसाके,
दिल को अपना बना ही देते है.

Side effects of working at Ummeed..

Raju Sheikh

Sometimes, all it takes is a rude remark from a kid, to bring out the best in you.

Not long after I joined Ummeed, I met this taciturn, reclusive, introvert, dog-lover kid - Raju Sheikh. In a place, where everyone's quite the opposite, my heart was pleased to find a pacified soul like his. Little did I expect, that he'll stop coming to classes in less than a week. So, I confronted him. But in a wrong mood, at a wrong place with a completely wrong approach. I tell him about the rule I made seeing the computer mayhem at the home - that no English means no Computers. And this otherwise sweet kid tells me how he doesn't understand anything in my class and how I don't know how to teach.

I would have been shattered, had I not found out that he is more of a self-learner. He doesn't like being taught by any teacher at the home, doesn't even like going to school. Had I not been insulted, I am sure I would have been impressed by him. I always see him with a book, with dogs or with small kids. We didn't speak for a month or probably more than that, before I was like - Alright! That's enough! I went and hugged him, said sorry for the way I talked with him that day and asked him to give me another try. Which he does, but later comes and confesses that he still prefers studying alone with me helping him with the words he doesn't know meaning to.

So time passes by, things get great. He even starts helping me with my Bridge English class at times. But, I have this annoying habit of loosing it when I see someone disturbing my class, especially someone who doesn't belong to the class. And he being popular with the Bridge kids, sometimes unknowingly did that. So, last friday, I confronted him again in a wrong mood, at a wrong place with a completely wrong approach. And again, it is his straightforward rudeness that I comment without knowing the details (which is true btw!) that makes me rethink about so many things I almost forgot.

I didn't take this job to just teach them. I wanted to know them, to learn from them and to tell them about all these amazing things that this world is full of. I don't know why I keep forgetting that. And sometimes it takes mistakes like these to remind me. This is crazy, now I have to stay mad at him for sometime to make sure he understands that I don't appreciate rude behavior, when I actually should be thanking him. 

It's never easy around you!

Denied, defied,
new excuses I improvised..
I used to feel immune to all this,
until I found you.
And now,
it's never easy around you!

Secrets

Certain secrets are meant to be told at the right time. But certain others, are never supposed to be told. The task of differentiating one from the other is a daunting task. Not just because you need the courage to be able to face the consequences, but also because sometimes you don't know what is the right thing to do. Anyhow, sleeping with such secrets can play tricks in your head. With everything being alright, will you risk telling something that will make it not-alright. Honesty can be such a bitch at times!

Shading waala tree..

It was probably more than 12-14 years ago, my brother suddenly pointed towards a tree and screamed 'Shading waala tree'. We were sitting on a narrow wooden 'fatta' in a rickshaw, facing the side opposite to the direction in which the rickshaw was moving. It's a pity we don't have those rickshaws anymore here, it was interesting to watch things moving away from you, with you not knowing where you're going. 

Going back to my brother's comment, what my brother actually meant was that the tree had thin, fine leaves which in the twilight appeared as if someone has shaded the leaves with pencil. It was one of the very few times, I felt the creativity rushing in my brother's brain. I also felt how less I notice stuff, always pouring un-pouring thoughts in left and right brain buckets, never seeing the things right in front of me. And also, how less I notice my own brother. Though, we've hardly ever been close. We grew up literally cursing each other and wishing to kill the other by something so ingenious so as to escape being caught later. Thankfully, we both couldn't find those ingenious murder weapons. I still find it difficult to forget, that we both used to be covered with marks all over our face, arms, legs, skull etc. as everything was reason enough for a violent settlement. And later, I used to watch my brother sleep sometimes. He looked so peaceful, I started believing that devils become monks when they sleep.

Well, the reflective thing didn't last and last 12-14 years were nothing different from the years before it. I was a strong-headed, immature, unloving sister. And the irony is, even if I've matured now, I'm still as inexpressive as ever. However, when on cloudy days like today I'm walking with my eyes roaming around, I sometimes see that 'shading waala tree' and wonder if I'm noticing enough. 

In love!

The younger kids - Bridge group and the school going ones, are going to zoo day after tomorrow. I thought it'll be great if I make a ppt for them explaining about some of the exotic and endangered animals. And while making this, I can almost see their eyes shine with curiousity, can almost hear their deeply innocent questions, can almost feel their nerve impulses jumping at the flood of information like a starving white tiger ;), and can almost be sure that I'm in love with them. Quite hopelessly too :P

And I should remember these...

I have this bad habit of forgetting the compliments but remembering the taunts. I figure, I should remember these as they did brighten me up :

1. Abhilasha telling me "It's very difficult to know you and not love you". Whatever that female did is not that important, this was something that really touched my heart.
2. Mandeep at the admin after hearing my big plans for life "I think you're going to have an interesting life. Do keep in touch". And yes, we are still in touch!
3. Rahul Roy Chowdhury "I think it's your work, your work with the kids - that you've your innocence intact!".
I think I'm really lucky to have met him, though I keep telling him to get insurance and make me the nominee, figuring with his rate he won't live long ;)
4. Deepak Boro, a 16 yr old kid at Ummeed, a hard nut to crack : "I wish I had a teacher like you when I was young, I would have already become something" and then gives a big smile. Some days later he decides he doesn't want to give the computer paper, so skips my class , indefinitely..
5. Dinesh, the crazy photographer from Jaipur  : "You're a devil, but when somebody looks at you from a distance talking, laughing, fighting, you're very amusing. There are very few people like you"
6. Frida, a 9 yr. old girl, from the family I was living with in Goa : "Now, who is going to tell us bed-time stories?"
7. Suraj, another kid from Ummeed, a good dancer, singer, but a lot of aggression : "You must be a real kid lover?? that can only be the reason.. why someone like you should come to a place like this "

Confessions.

While I sit here with the empty 1 litre Cookie Crumb ice-cream bucket, I can't help but reminisce. It's been a while since I've felt like questioning myself. The reason being it's so much easier defending things, when you don't even mention your slightest doubts, even to yourself. 

Three days back, someone stole Martin's iPod. Got it back yesterday. Was stolen by a juvenile kid, with whom I used to talk about controlling anger, and forgetting the past, and focussing on future. He came to me to tell that he found the thing backside of Ummeed under a brick. But the truth as told much earlier by the staff was that, he was trying to find the lead in the Mehrauli market when two other kids saw him. And so, he probably returned it thinking that everyone's going to find out about this after all.

He was sick that day, and I haven't been talking to him much as he was not improving with his behaviour. But that day being a "Cheese toast and dining manners" class, I felt he could use some Cheese magic. I should've known better.

This is not the first time, I had serious doubts about myself. In my starting days at Ummeed, there was a kid Naushad Ali. Always dirty, always hitting, always outside the class. I decided to talk to him and after a lot of counselling, we both came up with a point system where things like clean hair, clean nails, clean ears etc. fetched +10 points and hitting a child, bunking class, lying, disrespecting fetched -10 points and so on. I promised if by the end of the week, he gets more than 100, I'll give him a gift. The very next day, I saw him sparkling clean and so well behaved, I felt incredible. He got more than 100 in just 3 days. I gave him a card for getting there so fast, and a chocolate at the end of the week. But the very day there was some holiday due to Moharram I think, and he ran away from home. And hasn't returned since. I tried finding out from the staff, they didn't have a clue. They say he had some mental issue. But I really wish I get to see him some day. He gave me a roller-coaster ride; got me so high and then left me to free-fall.

I was having an argument with this friend about him not even trying to quit drugs (his health is deteriorating and yes, I really had to!) and he flipped out telling me about how selfish I am at the core, how I don't even know what I'm doing, how illogical it is of me to force my perspective on him or even on the kids and how people try to fix others, when they can't fix themselves or their family. He apologized the next day, and said he didn't mean all that. And that, it was all just backlash, but it's the truth in it that turns in my stomach when I'm having a bad day.

A word about Chand..

Have you felt that you can see something great rolling inside someone else's brain, even when you hardly know that person? I think I feel like that quite often working with kids.

Chand

It was the very first day in Ummeed and he ensured that I'll remember his name thereafter. The kids weren't in mood for a class (which they rarely are, to be honest). I asked them to sit in a circle and in turns, dance a step plus tell me what they wanted to become. The fact that 90% of them wanted to become fighters wasn't a surprise. The real surprise was this kid Chand who was almost reasoning like an adult whether it was the futility of me trying to have a class or the senselessness of making him dance. All of the kids in Ummeed are pretty much free spirited, but Chand is still somewhat different. He keeps moving in and out of class as and when he finds things that interest him. Razor-sharp brains. Not only understands things (that appeal to him) but applies it - the sign of true learning. I always find him fiddling with things or walking in his own world. Alone with an English paper he can't understand, with other kids in mud making bridges, climbing down trees and best- running away from teachers. This republic day, I discussed the saga of our freedom struggle and partition. History being as dear to him as science, or probably more, he was glued that class. Today, after I read them the daily news - the revolution in Egypt, A. Raja. arrest, two pilots die trying to save lives etc., he comes to me and says - "I think the time of Bhagat Singh is going to be back again". I asked him why he thought this way. He said "With all this bad news daily, with all this bloodshed - I think the time of pre-independence struggle, the time of Bhagat Singh will be back again". I've always been impressed with him, but today I'm sure he hit the bulls-eye!!! I hope the system never succeeds in killing his reflective mind.. 

P.S. : I adore all of them. I really would wish the system never succeeds in killing their free spirits either, but I do hope for more order in Ummeed. Sometimes, the heart really questions the point of education if the morals are perforated. Somebody stole Martin's (a fellow German volunteer) iPod yesterday. I wish there was no exams/admission bullshit, I would teach them the real important things in life first; rather than sandwiching it in their classes.

And sometimes they ask you things...

It's not that I haven't been in situations when a question has put me into a deep thought. It's just in Ummeed it happens quite frequently now.

There is this kid Farukh, an extremely adorable kid, who stammers a little. I had noticed it and was thinking of talking to him about the simple techniques of speaking slowly and getting rid of the fear which makes you stammer even more for starters. What I hadn't noticed was that the other kids were taking his case from time to time, and making the situation worse. Today, when I was speaking to one of the older kids, I saw him behind me. I asked him if he wants to say something and he just vanished. While I was about to walk out of the Ummeed door, he came and asked "Didi, mera yeh bolna theek ho jayega naa" (Would I be able to speak properly someday?)

And though for the next ten minutes I assured him with all my heart, and explained all the ways he can work on it, and how he shouldn't listen to other kids, and how he'll be fine; his question filled me with a kind of feeling that I can't box up in words and that stayed with me a little longer than usual. The thing is, very few people will be able to understand the helplessness, that a stammering child feels. Probably, you know the right answer to teacher's question, but you'll not say the answer because you fear you might stammer and then everyone will laugh. Probably, you like studying, but you'll not enter the class for the fear that the teacher might ask you something. Probably, there's so much inside you that you want to scream out from the top of your lungs, but this damn stutter prevents you, it makes you inexpressive, and that in turn makes you feel isolated and low on self-esteem.

Try being inside a child's world, maybe his problems aren't as tall as your problems but then to him they are like giants. I hope I'm able to help Farukh bring down his giants, as I did for myself when I was young.

Things Ummeed has taught me so far..

1. How to make mosques and animal faces in the mud (dug up for making a garden inside Ummeed).
2. How to shout one moment, and break into hysterical laughter the other.
3. How to run after 10 kids in different directions and ask them to attend the class.
4. How to do Emotional blackmail :) when everything else fails.
5. How caring the most mischievous kids can be, when it comes to the new born puppies.
6. How the tiny Shukar Ali can do a Shin Chan all day, and then give that disarming smile and get away with everything ;)
7. How tiny Lucky will always ask you if you need a chair and then get you one from somewhere.
8. How the intricate game of 'Gilli Danda' is the best thing on planet.
9. How these kids never feel cold, with half sleeves T shirt and no slippers/socks, when the adults are literally shivering.
10. How they never get tired of surprising me with their mood swings.
11. How carefree, free-spirited and fearless they are towards life and how difficult it is not to get impressed once you get to know of it.
12. How inadequate it can feel at times! There are days you keep thinking, if you're ever going to be able to understand enough, to do enough, to heal enough.
13. How many things they juggle in their head, and how you'll never get to know about it.
14. How observing you have to be to intercept the mild signals to know when they're ready to talk.

but he will always sing once more!!

He ran away at the age of 10,
still a fast runner,
still a lot of soft lines shaded with coarse pen.
Sings in the corridor, drums the kitchen door,
Had violent storms once,
now living with silent icicles from before.

Stuck between a father who couldn't love
and a mother who couldn't live,
Chose to choose,
A life of bruises over a life as an unwanted refuse.
Took life as a teacher, left with the servant's son
and left the book open, with the chapter undone..

Waiting to close it with proving him wrong,
Join the army, from his father's regiment
and win the redemption that was his all along..
So as he sings in the corridor, drums the kitchen door,

he might see you and stop at first,
but he will always sing once more!!

For one of the kid at Ummeed Aman Ghar

Still

Silent stare, silent hands
two people packed in polybags,
came close.
Liquid stirred, but didn't spill
packed were the emotions still