मेरा नाम छोटू नहीं है!

Everyone...has an identity that must be respected...irrespective of stature, status, profession et al. U cant go around calling every little boy who serves you at tea stalls/ shops/anywhere for that matter..by the name of chotu..it doesn't take too much time and effort to ask someone's name..now does it!.....

तेज़ आवाज़ में कहता हैं "ए छोटू! ज़रा दो चाय लाना"
मेरा नाम छोटू है, ये तुम्हे किसने कहा, पहले ये बताना
पिछले दस सालो से मै बबलू था, फिर शहर हुआ आना
कद तो तब कम ही था तोह सब ने शुरू कर दिया छोटू बुलाना

चाय की दुकान बना नया घर और चाय बनी मेरा पहला प्यार
मालिक ने किया छोटू बुलाना और बबलू बोल बोल मैं गया हार
"ए छोटू! तीन चाय टेबल चार पर, एकदम कड़क, ज़ोरदार"
चाय लेकर जाओ, तोह कस्टमर कहे "छोटू, कुछ खाने को भी ला यार"

"छोटू नहीं! बबलू! -बोलना चाहिए था पर बन के रहा ये एक काल्पनिक साज़
और "हाऊ सर, अभी हाज़िर है" बोली मेरी आदत से मजबूर आवाज़
शायद इसी नाम से जानते हैं मुझे अब सभी लोग पास और दूर दराज़
पांच पांच का हो गया हैं कद, पर लोग न आयेंगे बाज़

अब ठान लिया हैं की छोटू सुन कर भी अनसुना करूंगा
बबलू मेरी पहचान हैं, न खुद भूलूंगा न भूलने दूंगा
दुबारा छोटू कहा तोह...... "ए छोटू! दो चाय और टेबल तीन तोह पोछना"
"हाऊ सर, अभी हाज़िर हैं" -मेरी आदत ने फट से शुरू किया बोलना...

सुचिता

Of Two Worlds

A few minutes when the rains and sun graced the same place
When unanswered questions and naked truth came face to face
The eyes do the talking and ask the mouth to stay mum
But instead, to camouflage the truth, the mouth chooses to hum
The order of the conversation is almost always the same
Contact, awe, longing, questions, anger, complacence and no one to blame

Poised two feet above the ground, with a tinted window wall that lowers only for exchange
To ensure the coolness of her temporary abode remains intact, doesn’t change
She wears sunglasses, a crisp white dress and she’s so pretty and so fair
Just like the poem I had learnt before leaving school for selling tea here
And then appears a creamy hand with a ruby ring and an empty glass that once had tea
The younger ones rush to service but I stay put coz a sense of shame engulfs me

What would she think of my soiled clothes, my dark skin, and my mangled hair
What if she shuns me coz I’m spoiling her breathing air
She then removes her shades and surprisingly looks at me for a second and then more
No blinking is the name of the game and she can see the questions soar
I search deeper but her eyes are starkly speechless
On the extent of nakedness behind every beautiful dress

Exchange done, the window rolls up and the car speeds away leaving a storm of dust
That soils my clothes, my little world in which I shall live, die and meanwhile rust
Why I was born in the black and white world where the darkness seldom fades
And there are those who know red from yellow, the bright world where people wear shades
Though I’m not convinced, ma says –It’s God’s plan and to his tune, we’re all dancers
And here comes another big car at our highway tea shop and begins yet another futile search for my answers.


Suchita ....the one inside the car..on behalf of the one who wasn't...