शामँ...

मैं दरवाजे पर आस लगाये खड़ा हुआ था...

दो घूँट पानी और एक प्याली चाय पीकर अभी उठा था...

गुज़रते धूप की कुछ छींटे,

कहीं कहीं पर गिरी हुयी थी...

कुछ पंछी यहाँ-वहां पर बैठे हुए थे...

घुलाम अली के कुछ चुनिन्दा गानों की धुन,

कुछ यादों को दोहरा रही थी...

" ये दिल... ये पागल दिल मेरा...क्यों बुझ गया... आवारगी॥"

हाँ, ये पागल दिल ही तो है,

जो ज़िन्दगी को हर वक़्त नए रंग में रंगता रहता है...

कभी लाल, कभी नीली, कभी काली और कभी बिलकुल सफ़ेद;

जैसे दिन के पहर बदलते रहते हैं...

हर शाम एक सी नहीं रहती...

कौन जाने आज शामँ का रंग क्या होगा?

ये सोचता रहा मैं, और ना जाने कब,

शामँ दबे पाँव मेरे गलियारे में चली आई थी...

धूप की वो छींटे, जो कहीं-कहीं पर गिरी हुयी थीं,

वहाँ-वहाँ से सिमट रही थी...

वो पंछी, जो यहाँ-वहां पर बैठे हुए थे,
वो इधर-उधर अब उड़ने लगे थे...

चाय की प्याली, खाली-खाली सी पड़ी हुयी थी...

मैं मेरे छोटे से घर में,

भटक भटक कर घूम रहा था...

कोई आवारगी-सी थी इस मौसम में,

घुलाम अली के गाने जैसी...

उसकी हर चाल समझ में आती नहीं,

पर एक रिश्ता सा पाता हूँ...

ठीक वैसे ही, जैसे उर्दू के हर शब्द समझ नही आते,

पर कुछ तो बंध जाता है दिल के अन्दर...

जब वापस आया दरवाज़े पर,

खिड़की पर रंग-बिरंगी शामँ को सिमटते हुए पाया था...

एक अँधेरा-सा छा रहा था वहाँ आसमान में...

जैसे बुझा दी हो किसी ने बत्ती वहाँ...

तभी याद आया, मुझे घर में रोशनी करनी थी...

कभी-कभी बाहर की रोशनी ख़त्म होने पर ही,

अंदर के दिए की याद आती है

... not in my house!

I hate pigeons!

Well, that’s quite a negative statement to start with. But that’s the truest statement too. So I reaffirm the true hatred – I hate pigeons!

Now, the obvious question – Why? To which my obvious response – Why not? Would you like if somebody stays in YOUR house without YOUR permission to your extreme dislike and treats it as his? I won’t. And so I hate pigeons! They live in my house – my kitchen, my balcony, my bathroom, my drawing room and at times my bedroom, all around. And they not just live; they shit, they pee, they cry and they shout. This is me who can’t wake up even if my phone rings in full volume more than forty times and my doorbell rings 100 times but the same ‘me’ wakes up on the first wing-flapping of this bird in my balcony or on the window and run to close it all. I have to jail myself to be free from the discomfort of existing with this bird.

The other evening I opened the door to my bedroom, and guess what, I found a broken egg on my window and a pigeon on my bed. One can’t expect such a welcome after a day’s long work. I looked at it angrily and was stunned to be stared back with two red, angry pair of eyes. It needs guts to look into someone’s eyes. One can do that only in three circumstances; first - when one is not guilty and knows that, second - when one is guilt but doesn’t care and third - when one is ignorant about the mistake. I hope with this bird, third was the case and I took the redness of ignorance and unknowingness as misbehavior of insult imposed upon me.

“What the fuck!” I ran towards it to make it run out of my room. Instead it flew a little and sat on my non-revolving fan. I jumped onto bed with a stick; it flew down and sat on the cupboard. I ran towards the door and stood there for a second, my body and mind shaking with anger. “Fuck you!” was all I could say. I sighed and thought, “Bloody hell! This is my bedroom and only I have the right to produce children here and not some filthy pigeon.” I know that’s a strange thought, but trust me, the situation was no less strange – That bloody pigeon couldn’t fly well, in fact not much. And here, it was in my bedroom and I at the door with a stick in my hand.

I am a person who doesn’t like even clean, nice pets (not that I hate animals, but I firmly believe I can’t coexist with them in my place of living. I really don’t mind them existing outside it). And I was supposed to catch hold of this filthy bird!

“Oh, god no,” I screamed in my mind. I guess the scream had originated in head and had gone to god, up there. The door bell rang and when I opened the door, I found my flatmate standing out. I thought, “God, thank you for sending him in this moment. He has walked in as an angel,” I smiled.

“What happened?” he asked.

I pointed towards the bird that had flown down the bed and was sitting in the corner of my bedroom. He smiled, looked at me, and his smile exploded in a profound laughter.

“Asshole, don’t laugh and please takes it out!” I screamed, open and loud. ‘Asshole’ and ‘Please’ are two words I can’t imagine going hand-in-hand in a sentence, except when you don’t really care what you are saying and to whom; what mattered in that moment was I wanted him to take the bird out of my room. When he walked in, I walked out of the room to let the room be an open ground for the catch-hold-throw game.

He jumped up and down and left and right. In around five minutes, the bird was in his hands. I looked at him in appreciation or relief, I would not know. He looked at me and smiled. How would I know the reason behind his smile? How was I supposed to guess the angel had turned into a devil in those five minutes? People I say! It’s difficult to guess what plays in each one’s mind. He started walking towards me rather than to the window. He forwarded his hand in a gesture to release the bird and said, “Take it.”

Before he could actually throw the bird at me, I ran into the other room and locked it from inside. Once sure that I was safe, I shouted, “Man, you are mad! What the fuck you think you are doing? Why can’t you simply put that shit pigeon out of the window? You know I can’t… I just can’t stand this bird! Please yaar, take it out.” Hearing no sound from the other side of the door, I assumed that he did what I asked him to and to confirm this I slowly opened the door. And before I could realize, he pushed the door open with and threw the bird on me. I was so bloody freaked out that lost my control and almost fell off on the floor. The bird tangented over my head and went to sit on the CPU. The dude ran to catch it and was successful. He then placed it out from our balcony. In the background, I was screaming and shouting, “You asshole… you fucker…@#&*$” and he was laughing his guts out.

At times I think, “Why cant these birds, or for that matter any other living being, live in their own space. I don’t intrude in their then why do they do in mine?” I know it appears childish to think that way, and to an extent, it is. I know we, as human beings, have intruded in anyone’s and everyone’s space and have eaten up their share. I know that these creatures can’t differentiate between a ‘Rohit’ and a human being who trespass in their area. But all this gyan doesn’t appear my mind in situations like this. The only thing that plays in my mind as a stuck record is – I hate pigeons and can’t love them, not in my house.