For myself.

W zyciu piekne sa tylko chwile...

I saw a field of golden sunflowers on a summer's day. Thousands of suns under the blue sky. Only once, and only for a moment as we walked from a tiny train station of a sleepy town.
But this is a story of yesterday. A story of a small peace sign that was there on one's favourite bag...
Is it there today too?
Today is a mixture of the past and future. Is it really possible to change one's life so easily? To travel miles and reach a place where you can really start afresh. Be the same person that you once were... The peace sign, the sun on the face, the touch of the leaves, the touch of the street dog, getting drenched in the rain and enjoying it...
I know that the past is still there inside me, but maybe new beginnings are really possible?
I always knew that touch has this amazing energy that allows one to feel the nature of connections with other people, but maybe similar things are possible with places? Maybe some places can have inviting energies, while some other simply tire us up?
I feel at home after a long time. Peace. Maybe it is not the same kind of peace as I experience while walking among the green palm trees, but peace is here around me. And it seems as if the city was inviting me to come.

I had a dream once... Always same dream that I stole while having tea under a tree...

Dream of a small room, a table, a chair, glasses, cats, window, lake, trees, school, he sitting by the table and writing, a little girl running and laughing while playing, 2 cups of tea...

Funny how Shakespeare once died for 50000rs salary... or was it 40000 rs course in modelling the emptiness?

But I'm here now and it feels as if travelling all those miles brought me closer to this dream again. Dreams are to be made and lived, not preached and forgotten.

The peace sign on a bag... I still have it, just like the memories of golden fields of the sunflowers when we all walked from a tiny station of a sleepy town.

W zyciu piekne sa tylko chwile... dlatego czasem warto zyc....

Simple story

Sometimes there comes a moment in life when one feels tired of constant running and all the unexpected spirals and turns that life brings, and needs a simple story. No speed. No lofty words. No dramatic events. Just simple words over a cup of chai. No additional characters. Just two people with their huge backpacks of experiences and fears and a long awaited story.
There once was a boy who had nothing, only the innocence of a child inscribed in his soul... And there was a girl who was entrapped in a cage of her fears and illusions. They've met once as children...
The girl got lost on a desert and the boy took her hand to help her find the way to the land where the trees were green, the parrots lived and many children laughed sitting under a huge thousand year old tree and listening to stories told by their hundred year old grandmother. Life seemed so peaceful there in this little oasis at the heart of the busy world.
Suddenly one day the children looked at themselves and realised that they suddenly grew up and entered the world of adults. The girl was scared of becoming an adult. It seemed to be a painful process of vivisection of her beliefs and values that she cherished, so everyday she started falling deeper and deeper into the cage that the world was preparing for her. Her long hair got entangled in a knot of thoughts that exploded one day when it could not bare itself any longer. She was desperately searching for the boy's hand, but he left in search of bread. He was an adult after all, and there was no space left in adulthood for green leaves, birds flying high in the sky and empty boxes that one could gift to each other. In adulthood one has to be serious and walk straight ahead without turning back at crazy memories of the childhood that one had.
The girl was lost again in life and there was no hand around her, but she was not an ordinary girl. She had an amazing gift of faith and hope that one day she would meet her childhood friend again to remind him of the stories they used to tell each other as children. Hope can sometimes be stronger than reality around us...
So even though it was unreal the girl took out a golden thread from her pocket and threw it up in the air... and she began to walk believing that the thread would lead her straight to the boy's feet... And so it did...
Sometimes life writes stories for us but sometimes we can write stories and scripts for ourselves too...
They sat in a small tea shop somewhere in the busy world not really knowing what to say to each other. So many years have passed... The silence and incoherent, unimportant words disturbed them. But it was not the words that were important. They did not meet for words... The boy looked at the girl and even though her face was that of a mature woman now she still had that smile that made him feel... How did it make him feel the girl wondered as she looked into his eyes observing her from behind glasses. She always used to smile at the thought of his short sighted eyes following her wherever she would go during their childhood days as if in fear that she may get lost somewhere in the desert and he will never be able to find her again. If his fear was that strong then why did he allow himself to become an adult? But there was no space for regrets, buts or ifs. It was only about them. The girl took out the golden thread out of her pocket and the boy was amazed to see how it's other end fell right next to his feet. He lift it up to pass it to her and their hands met... It's not the words but the touch and energies that we give to each other that are important.
 They left the shop holding each other hands... and now they are searching for their own green tree under which they could tell stories to thousand of children that pass by as they grow old together and each day brings new wrinkles to their hundred years old short sighted eyes... and they are still holding each other's hands...

Billi ki laash

I wrote this silly story few years back but last night I really experienced it.  I am so sorry cat... Loved you a lot...

Aaj maine sadak par ek laash dekha. Billi ki laash. Koi ajibsi billi thi yah jo na yaha ki thi, na vaha ki thi. Kahi beech ki thi yah billi, ya shayaad kahi ki nahi thi.
Sadak par billi ki laash.
Aisa laga ki billi kahi daurti thi bahut samay se. kaha dorti thi? Kaha se? kyo? Yah mujhe nahi maloom. Shayaad billi ko bhi maloom nahi thi. Shayaad daurna lakshya se zyada mahattvapoorn tha? Shayaad koi lakshya nahi tha? Shayaad na koi ant ana koi shooruvaad tha, shayaad daurne kea lava kuch bhi nahi tha… kisko pata?
Sadak par daurte hui billi ki lash.
Shaayad ab hi, mar jane ke baad billi ko pata chala ki daurne ka karan kyat ha? Ya shayaad yah hi pata chala ki koi bhi karan tha nahi. Sirf shunyata. Aur kutte. Shunyata aur kutte.
Sadak par daurte hue billi ki lash kutto ke beech.
Bahut sare kutte the aas paas. Kuch na kuch kutte apna safed daant dikha rahe the. Safed daant par khun ki choti si bundiya dikh rahi thi. Billi ka khun.
Sadak par daurte hue billi ki laash safed daantwale kutto ke beech.
Kuch na kuch kutte chup chap baithte the. Aisa lagta tha ki ve intazaar kar rahe hain. Jab dusre kutte billi ki laash apne daant se tod denge tab ye chup chap baithe hue kutte apne daant se billi ka dil chote chote tukdo me tod denge. Kha lege. Har khun ki bundi piyege.
Sadak par daurte hue billi ki laash safed daantwale kutto ke beech jo sirf khun ka intezaar kar rahe the.

„Mujhe paisa do! Koi mujhe paisa nahi deta hai!Mujhe paisa chahiye! Aaj do, kal do, apna sherwala uncle se mangvao paisa mere liye!” – Ek kutte ne bola.
„Mujhe apna sharir do! Mujhe sharir chahiye kisi ka” – dusre kutte ne bola, ya shayaad yah bhi us pahle kutte ki avaaz thi.
„Yah billi hai, koi kutta nahi! Usko yaha rahne ki zaroorat nahi hai! Bhaga do usko yaha se!!!” – ek kutti ki avaaz.
„Main us billi ko janta hu” – ek aur kutte ne bola – “main us billi ke saath khel raha tha pahle. Accha khel tha! Bahut accha! Main billi ko katta tha, bahut katta tha, itna katta tha ki uske sharer se khun nikalne laga. Is khun ka mahak kitna mitha tha! Aur bevakuf billi bar bar mujhe apna sharir ka kuch naya hissa dikhati thi katne ke liye! Kitna accha khel tha! Tum bhi khel sakte ho!.”

Billi ki laash ne jo sadak par thi achanak thoda sa hilne lagi. Shaayad vo abhi tak zindi thi yah billi? Usne aankh kholi. Kahi door dekh rahi thi yah billi. Aisa lag raha tha ki vaha kuch hai… kuch hai jo sirf billi dekh sakti hai… Shaayaad billi ko laga raha tha ki vaha door koi hai. Aisa koi jo hai. Aisa koi jo aaega. Uske haatth me lathi hoga aur vo sare kutto ko bhagaega vaha se. Shaayaad billi ko laga ki un kutto ke beech ek aadmi tha. Srishthi ka pahla aadmi. Srishthi ka pahla insaan jo janta tha ki insaan ko kabhi kabhi insane banna hai aur apne pagalpan me daurna hai kahi door.
Shaayaad billi ne kuch dekha vaha.

Kya vaha koi tha? Yah hum kisi se puchh bhi nahi sakte hain. Yah to sirf billi ki laash janti hai. Yahi laash jo sadak par hai kutto ke beech. Kutto ne kisi ko dekha nahi, lekin billi us taraf hi dekh rahi thi. Kya vaha sach me koi tha? Ya shaayad yah sir ek sapna tha jo billi ne marne se pahle dekha. Kisko pata?

Sadak par daurte hue billi ki laash ko jo safed daantwale kutto ke beech, jo sirf khun ka intezaar kar rahe the.

Sare kutte billi ke paas aae. Unke safed daant aur laal laal billi ka khun…
Safed aur laal.
Kutte aur billi.