Thursday 14 July 2016

शायद तितलियों के पीछे भाग रही है....






चाँद-सा मुखड़ा, बिखरे बाल
दिलकश सूरत लगती कमाल
दिनभर मचाए खूब धमाल
पर सोते हुए लगती भोलेपन की मिसाल

एक बार जो हो जाए शुरू
तो फिर चुप कहां होती है
चट-पट चट-पट बातें करती
बड़ी मुश्किल से सोती है

मुंदी हुई पलकों के भीतर भी
भाग रहे कंचे इधर-उधर
लगता है कोई सपना देख रही है
शायद तितलियों के पीछे भाग रही है

बीच-बीच में खोलकर आंखें
निंदिया के साथ खेल रही आंख-मिचौली
या फिर मार रही गपशप गिलहरियों से
उसकी नई-नई हमजोली  

कमल की ताज़ी पंखुडी जैसे होंठों पर
आती-जाती ये मीठी मुसकान  
बता रही है कोयल सुना रही है
अभी तुझे कोई मधुर तान

नींदों में तेरा करवट लेते हुए कुनमुनाना
मानो वन मयूरों के साथ बेवजह ही थिरक जाना
फिर अचानक मुझसे यूं लिपट जाना
जैसे स्‍कूल में माँ की याद आ जाना 

नींदों में कभी-कभी ऐसे चहचहाना
ज्‍यूं गौरेयों के साथ सुर सजाना
माथे पर तेरे पसीने की बूंदें जो चुहचुहा जाएं
सैंकड़ों जुगनू इकट्ठे झिलमिला जाएं  

कान में मोती के दो बूंदे यूं डोल रहे
जैसे चांद और सूरज नभ में झूला झूल रहे
काले-काले बालों के बीच ये मांग तेरी उजली
ज्‍यूं रात की पगडण्डी पर तारों की बारात निकली

चेहरे पर ओढ़े आलस की चादर
बड़ी प्‍यारी लगती है सोती हुई यूं बेफिकर
रहे तू हमेशा सलामत और तेरी ये मस्‍ती भरी नींद भी
इससे ज्‍यादा रब से क्‍या मांग सकती हूं मैं कभी

माना समय पर नहीं सोने के लिए तू डांट मुझसे खाती है
कभी-कभी तो इस बात पर मुझसे रूठ भी जाती है
पर नींदों में जब मेरी छाती पर चढ़ आती है
मेरी ममता खुद पर इतराने का मौका पाती है

Monday 20 June 2016


When I was first sent to the jail

Soul Curry invites you to share your real life soul-stirring experiences. If you have any such story to share, do send it to us at soulcurry@timesinternet.in and we will publish it for you!
TNN | 
When I was first sent to the jail (Anna Martin/Getty Images)When I was first sent to the jail (Anna Martin/Getty Images)
I was only twenty one, when I was first sent to the jail! It was my editor, who had asked me to cover a cultural event being organized there for and by the inmates. I was strangely excited at the very idea of visiting a prison, otherwise a prohibited place for a common girl like me, but soon developed cold feet when some of my seniors told me that it was one of the eeriest places one could ever visit. Suddenly, the scenes of the Jodie Foster movie, 'The Silence of The Lambs' started floating before my eyes, wherein she goes to interview an imprisoned ex-psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer and inmates scare her with their bizarre behavior. However, I could not cherry pick the assignments so took up the job, though willy-nilly.
It was the city Central Jail, which housed male and female prisoners in clearly demarcated premises. I felt a little relieved to know that the event was scheduled in female inmates' building. Driving towards the place, I was wondering how female convicts would be like; will they look and behave like the commoners or be different from rest of the female population? I was completely clueless, but the very sight of khaki clad and gun wielding police personnel deployed at the towering gates of the prison assured me that it was going to be an altogether different experience.

I got a warm welcome from Deputy Superintendent (Prisons) who, after briefing me about the event, ushered me to the big door that separated the cells of the convicts from her office. I was not allowed to go across until one of my hands was marked with a 'visitor' stamp. On reaching the event hall, I somehow felt as if I was there to attend an all-women family function, though with a dress code as all the women were clad in white cotton saris. The program was about to start, so flurry of activity could be easily experienced. The inmates were busy doing different jobs in such a zealous and harmonious manner that quite perfectly matched with the last minute preparations undertaken by the women folk of a house before a family function. They were working in clutches. One group was giving finishing touches to a magnificent rangoli they had made with chalk and sand, while the other was arranging chairs on the dais and decorating it with flowers. Some elderly women were in command, while the younger ones were carrying out tasks given to them with all enthusiasm and remarkable agility.

I must admit that I got so engrossed in witnessing all this that for a moment, I forgot that I was standing in a jail, a place I was dreading to visit only a short while ago. The program went on very well with all the performers giving brilliant performances. I was astonished to see how, without proper training, they could dance and sing so well. I wished they could participate in some talent hunt programs, showcase their talent, and get the recognition they deserved, but now they had no option but to surrender to their fait accompli and pass their days behind the bars.

On the sidelines of the event, I tried to peep into the lives of the convicts. They had reached jail for different 'sins' and belonged to different backgrounds, but one thing that they shared in common was the longing to meet their near and dear ones, which reflected in their eyes very apparently. They were put in prison allegedly for the crimes like stealing, duping, killing etc. Some of the women told me that they had been victims of somebody's propaganda and were innocent, while many of them confessed to their crimes, narrating the situations that propelled them to commit the sin which, nevertheless, could not be undone now.

I felt worst about the women, who were abandoned by their own people. One young convict told me that her jobless husband had cajoled her into stealing her sister-in-law's (bhabhi's) jewellery, which would guarantee good future of their children, but had isolated her when she got caught red handed committing the theft. Her heart wept to meet her children, but they were never allowed to visit the jail. And then, I witnessed one more bitter truth of the prison life, when I saw some women with their toddlers staying with them in prison. The children were allowed to stay with their mothers, as they were too young to live without their mothers. I was wondering how these children were bereft of a normal life and blissful childhood for the mistakes they had never committed.

I am not sure whether these women inmates were telling the truth or merely cooking up the stories to hide their crimes, but somehow I wanted to take them at their face value. Driving back home, I was carrying along a big lesson of life that a person is a product of his/her circumstances so we should avoid being judgmental about others. I was just praying for their better future, as I had realized that they were not very different from me and my friends, it was the circumstances that were different and making them live a blotted life behind the bars.

-By Meetu Mathur Badhwar


Friday 3 June 2016

Memoirs of a nature kid

  • Meetu Mathur Badhwar, Hindustan Times, Chandigarh
  •  |  
  • Updated: Sep 01, 2014 09:15 IST


I was sitting in my balcony, feeding my year-old the parantha I had made with "extra ghee" for her, when a sparrow came and pecked on the plate. Before I could react, it flew away. I pegged away at feeding my daughter again but the aerial attack was a reason enough to distract her. Giving myself to her whims, I joined her in admiring the bottlebrush tree on which the bird had now perched.
The tree held a nest in which three fledglings were waiting eagerly for their food. Their white, grizzly stomachs glowed in the pleasant winter sun. Mother sparrow was putting small morsels into their mouths and the chicks, with their mouths open, were trying to compete for feed.
The visual delight filled my heart with the fragrance of the memories of the times when I would study in my lawns, fuelling myself with sesame sweets and groundnuts. One day while studying, the sound of "tut-tut" attracted my attention. A squirrel under my table was holding a groundnut. It first ripped its brown rind and after removing the pink peel meticulously started to nibble at it.
I liked the similar body language of squirrels and human beings in the course of snacking on groundnuts. It seemed the squirrel had also invited her birdie friends to the feast, as a mynah, a sparrow, and a beautiful winged guest with a red glossy beak now relished the sumptuous banquet.
Sitting there all day long, I would listen to the pleasant bird sounds. The twitter of a mynah and the high-pitched squeaks of parrots gave me joy. My father would feed the pigeons early in the day. If he was delayed for any reason, the birds would start pecking on the roof, with an aggression that betrayed impatience for the first meal of the day.
This also reminds me of "Mataji", which is what my family called her on the lines of "cow is our mother". It had beautiful, sooted eyes, would moo at the main gate and go away after eating her chapati. In contrast to the pigeons that landed early morning, she was patient, maybe because she was "Mataji".
Today, when the flat culture of metropolitan cities has made the once common birds and animals a rare sight, there remain few pleasant moments to stumble upon in busy lives. With the concrete jungles mushrooming everywhere, our progeny would see mynahs and squirrels only in Google images, and would have to go on to the internet to prepare even a small write-up on "cow". I wish our age-old relationship with billi mausi and chanda mama doesn't become a thing of the past.
The onus of connecting our children to nature is on us. Let's begin by taking baby steps in the direction. The simplest workable idea is to start putting a water bowl for birds in our balconies and asking the children to take care of it. Give them an opportunity to have the feel-good moments of life that we still cherish.

Monday 30 May 2016

She came on a palanquin and left on a bier


She came on a palanquin and left on a bier (Confluence Pictures/Getty Images)She came on a palanquin and left on a bier (Confluence Pictures/Getty Images)
I met her countless times, but all such meetings remained one-sided. I had a fairly busy routine those days. My Master's degree in journalism and job in a media organization were going on hand-in-hand. I would only give cursory glance to the newspaper in the morning and would read the rest in bits and pieces as and when I got time throughout the day. However, on Sundays, I would take my cup of tea and the newspaper, along with its Sunday special supplements, straight to the terrace and sit on the marble slab there, which served as a multi-purpose table and gave a bird's eye view of the street.

I would meet her there. I admit to seeing her sneakily from the corner of my eyes.

She lived in the house right opposite to ours. The family had shifted recently to our locality and it was her maternal granny's house. Her parents lived in some nearby village and she was sent to the city for better education and a better life, of course! Her rosy complexion, prominent features, naturally kohled expressive eyes, and petite figure typified youthful charm and freshness. She must have been around twenty-two, but her demeanor explained her naivety. I would mostly see her playing with her little nephews. She could be seen laughing boisterously on jokes standing in the middle of the street and playing marbles with coterie of her little friends. She would ride bicycle with her buddies and sang songs with them when electricity went off, as if trying to dispel darkness with her sweet voice. She would dance and drench herself when it rained. To me, she personified both beauty and innocence. I always found myself drawn towards her, but could never break the ice.

One day I got to know that she was getting married. I usually shied away from attending parties and gatherings, but just could not resist from seeing her as a bride. She looked ravishing in her bright orange wedding lehenga-choli with kundan work all over. Her face radiated with the glow a bride carries naturally. Looking so different from the carefree lass who played in the street with her friends hitherto, she accepted my best wishes with a blush.

Days passed by and her memories, which were already faint in my mind faded away completely. I got busy with my exams and then, one fateful morning I woke up to the heart-rending cries from the neighborhood. Cries that confirmed of some mishap even without corroborating it. My mother went out and returned with an extremely upsetting news...the young woman across the door had committed SUICIDE!


I was standing aghast, when my mother told me that she had become yet another victim of the dowry system, almost omnipresent in our society. Right after her nuptials, she was harassed for not bringing the desired amount of cash along with her. Her husband and in-laws behaved in a brutal manner if she tried to counter or oppose them. She was not happy with her marriage and her man and wanted to walk away from it, but her parents muzzled her citing that an Indian woman goes to her sasural in a palanquin and leaves it on bier. And it so happened, she was silenced, silenced forever.

Top Comment

just need to keep educating our girls, may be then the MIL will be educated and stop torturing the DIL. I unfortunately have very little faith faith in the Indian men.Mausumi Choudhury

But, her charming face still haunts and compels me to figure out and understand how the parents, who are moved by the small injuries to their darling daughters, turn blind to the wounds she carries on her soul once she is married off. We may unanimously blame it on our rotten social system, but the truth remains that no matter how modern we become, our desire to give and take dowry doesn't seem to diminish. A bride gets respect at her in-laws' place in proportion to the dowry (let us not pass it off as gifts and hide our greed) she brings with her. But, with raising number of dowry deaths, isn't it high time to decide whether we want to do away with this perverted system which thrives across all social classes in India though banned here for 50 years now or want to keep putting lives of our innocent daughters at stake? I would especially request our youth to give it a serious thought and before demanding anything from your parents (even girls don't lag behind in asking for gifts during their weddings) or parents-in-law, please think over the repercussions it may bring, if not for you, for others.

- By Meetu Mathur Badhwar

Monday 11 January 2016

It takes two to tango

Delhi government’s odd-even traffic policy aimed at putting check on rising levels of air pollution in the city has been fetching mixed bag of reactions since its very inception. Some people are finding it an impractical and unsustainable idea which would only cause inconvenience to common people whereas there is a sizeable segment of society which is taking it as a tiny but potential step towards creating better environment. Now as a week has been over since the roll out of the scheme, it seems to see some daylight.

As a common Delhiite my first observation is not about air quality but the roads. Free from the maddening crowd of vehicles they seem to have heaved a sigh of relief, especially during the peak office hours. Driving to workplace is a hectic experience in Delhi with honking horns creating din in ears, two-wheelers making their way through the narrow passages between road biggies, by lanes occupied by scooters, motorbikes, and even cars giving no space to cycle riders whom they actually are meant for. For pedestrians, crossing a road at busy hours means waiting for long before the rushing cars and bikes give them way but since the onset of New Year the scenario looks somewhat changed. With less traffic on the roads, you are less vulnerable to traffic jams and hope to ride with little more dignity on roads. Reduction in commuting time and parking convenience are added benefits.

But like anything else this policy has its own odds. We cannot undermine the fact that mobility is something very essential to growth, be it an individual or a geographical unit but at the same time it necessarily doesn’t come by using private vehicles. This mobility can also be achieved through self-sufficient and efficient public transport system. The government is trying to even out the odds in this regard by promoting car pooling, making thousands of extra buses ply on the roads and more frequent and better metro services but still daily commuters are experiencing some practical problems, say, metro stations being very far from their houses, auto rickshaws overcharging and refusing to go to any place not of their choice etc. No doubt efforts by the government need to be taken to a level where people start enjoying hassle free public transport instead of tedious driving to their destination but this cannot happen overnight.

One more reason of fretting is government’s decision of keeping two-wheelers, women drivers, VIPs etc. outside the ambit of the policy. Yes, it is a valid point which has also been questioned by the High Court of Delhi. Experts tell two-wheelers come second in polluting air only after trucks. Out of 89 lakh registered vehicles in Delhi 45 lakh are reported to be two-wheelers. But the government plans not to give such exemptions to two-wheelers and women drivers in next phase of the scheme. One more logic put forward by those against the policy is that construction dust, agricultural waste burning, illegal mining etc. also prove hazardous to environment, then why should the sword dangle only over the automobiles? Right. Let us see if the government. implements cleaning by vacuum cleaners from April 1, 2016 as announced by It. It may give respite from dust problem but we should remember that the experts have suggested that vehicular emissions prove more noxious than construction dust as they affect the people commuting on roads as well those who reside close to main roads.

Not going into the politics of the issue, Let us wake up and smell the coffee. Delhihas become world’s most polluted city. Tests conducted by city doctors reveal that one out of four Delhiites is suffering with bad lung health. Even young school going children are facing respiratory problems and nebulizing. Health researchers have come up with the studies which suggest that microscopic particles present in diesel are carcinogens and reactive gases like carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxide etc. emitted by vehicles damage human cells and lead them to inflammation of respiratory system which results in various respiratory diseases.

Let us come out of our respective comfort zones and cooperate the government in implementing the scheme as it takes two to tango. I appeal not to resort to using fake number plates, buying two-wheelers, looking for exemptions. Let time tell whether this policy will work or not but please give it a chance for the sake of our future. Let us set an example for others to follow. Let us espouse it, at least for sometime in an effort to give our next generation a cleaner and clearer air to breathe. As Alexander Lowen once said:

“We live in an ocean of air like fish in a body of water. By our breathing we are attuned to our atmosphere. If we inhibit our breathing we isolate ourselves from the medium in which we exist. In all Oriental and mystic philosophies, the breath holds the secret to the highest bliss.”