उसका वह आचरण..

पाठकों से निवेदन है कि इस कविता को एक छोटे बालक की रचना समझकर पढ़ें, नाकि किसी प्रेमचंद की ;), इसे मैंने कक्षा VI में एक कवि सम्मलेन की प्रतियोगिता के लिए लिखी थी, और खुशी की बात यह है कि इस कविता ने मुझे जीत भी दिलाई :)

उसका वह आचरण,
कैसे करता इसका वर्णन,
सभी को चुभता रहता,
काँटों की तरह परेशान हमेशा करता रहता |

उसका वह आचरण,
मास्टर जी भी गुस्सा करते,
बार-बार सुधारते रहते,
लेकिन वह शैतान भला,
समझता कब यह विचित्र कला |

उसका वह आचरण,
छोड़ देता अपना सभी कार्य अधुरा,
कभी नही करता किसी भी कार्य को पुरा,
भाग जाता अपने मित्रों के संग,
कर देता था सबके खेल को भंग |

उसे किसी की भी नहीं थी परवाह,
यह भी नही की -
कितना तेज होगा मास्टर जी के डंडे का प्रवाह,
किसी नए बहने का अविष्कार करता रहता,
किसी-न-किसी को मूर्ख बनाता रहता |

उसका वह आचरण,
उम्र हुई उसकी तेईस,
मिल गई उसे एक सुंदर सी जाया,
परन्तु कुदरत की यह क्या माया,
तब भी विदा न हुआ उसका अलौकिक रूप,
यदि लाता अपने में थोड़ा बदलाव,
दिख जाता उसे अपना दीर्घ स्वरुप |

उसका वह आचरण,
उसकी यह परम्परा चलती आई,
और एक दिन प्रलय साथ लाई,
मिला उस वीर योध्धा के विरुद्ध एक भयंकर रिपोर्ट,
बना दिया उसके आचार्य ने कॉलेज को कोर्ट,
पीट-पीट कर बना दिया उसे एक पुतला,
और कर दिया उसे दुबला-पतला,
थका हारा बेचारा घर लौटा,
और खाया श्रीमती जी से जूता |

उसका वह आचरण,
रोज चलता था वह माईल्स,
दिखता था सबको अपना फाईल्स,
दी उसने IIT की परीक्षा,
पर उसके प्रशनपत्र की हुई नही समीक्षा |

त्याग दिया उसने यह रास्ता,
ले गया मुंबई अपना बस्ता,
क्रिकेटर बनना ठान रखा था,
लेकिन भाग्य में कुछ और लिखा था,
सचिन जैसे सितारों के साथ,
रोज मिलाता था अपना हाथ,
परन्तु जमा नही वहाँ पर,
निकाल दिया गया धक्के मारकर |

(घर पहुँचते ही)
श्रीमती जी से मिला न कोई आहार,
शुरू कर दिया उसने गधे का व्यापार,
करता था बकवास हर बार,
पहना देते थे लोग उसे हार,
और इस तरह हुआ वह ग्राम-अध्यक्ष,
रखता था अपना विचार सबके समक्ष |

अतः,
अब आप सबसे है मेरा यह निवेदन,
की- होने न देना अपनी मर्यादा का पतन |

Are those times gone ??

Trrrrring..... an alarm wakes me up and I jump off the bed to my senses.
My eyes give way to skeletonic horror.
What do I see !!

Tons and tons of paper scribbled away, bookes of all sizes stacked in all possible ways in the shelves and an echo of formulae vibrating in the room.
The change has occured.

Its not "Water Water Everywhere, Not a Drop to Drink", but "Books Books Everywhere, Not a Time to Think" !

My attention shifts from the bookish horizon to the present and I find myself in debt to many. I have to attend to my impositions, bend over the homework, sort out the assignments in neat hand, ....., all bracketed within stipulated time and with severe perfection.

My body has been reduced to a network of facts and a heart pulsating with the rhythm of the formulae. How gruesome, how pathetic is my state?

A look at the clock! It's nine o' clock. Time to pack up. I manage to load myself with all the necessary stuff and reach the school where the oscillations begin, to and fro... till my spirit is relieved of all the vigor.

What's next? Rushing back home, untying the huge bundle and then a giant leap into it t face the test the next day. The cycle continues...

And someone asks me, "How's life dear?"
What am I to say? I have heard all those usual ones- "Life is fun, Life is a celebration, ..." but to me - "Life had become an incredible inferno, hissing out with its heat and you got to bear it, to grab the POWER OF SUCCESS!!"

And it's this steaming struggle that makes me wonder of those days, glittering with life and joy, with no books to fence you, grounds and parks to play and plenty of time to make merry. My shelves had comics and toys of all sorts and my pets, constant playmates for me. Schoolwork seemed to be a flavour then.

But times have changed.

I can no longer hug my Mom and say "Come on, tell me a tale" or my father to take us on a trip.
It's only the mind trips that go on now, battling it out with the brain.
Life's all bitter and less sweet,they say.
It's now or never.
I have got to do my task.

But I always think, are those times gone??
Will they ever return??

--
Class XII
Dated: 9 December, 2002

Love Poem.. lol :)

Dated: 19 Aug 1999
It was during one of my English classes (IX Std), when my teacher was yelling aloud the poem "Solitary Reaper".. The homework for us was to pen down a self-composed poem on LOVE!

Down I bent over my desk. And my ridiculous and immature imagination got me the following output:

Of all the wonderful meetings,
And of all the cordial greetings,
None shall be a more cherished one,
Than the one I had with my dearest one

I noticed her endowed with beauty,
My heart subsequently grew too heavy,
She was neither a goddess of love,
Nor was she an angel

But the sight had scorching effect,
On my confused little intellect,
Should I part with that face?
But how could I, without omnipotent's grace?

Away I walked with these melanchony feelings,
If only my injured heart had any heelings,
Her image displayed great affection,
Pray, Is there anyone to understand the situation?

Like a tender rose she arose,
Spreading fragrance all around,
She was gifted with sheer elegance,
How can I deny her fascinating eyes?
No, I dare not say lies
I wondered as to how the god could be so partial,
to fill all the splendors in that queen

The only thing, I can make out is,
this perpetual love of mine,
shall be stored forever,
as a long-lasting thirst..

"Alas! If only I could quench my thoughts.."