Showing posts with label Storyteller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storyteller. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

ALAM E ARWAH - DELHI KARAVAN CHRONICLES

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चल बुल्लेया चल ओथे चलिए 
जित्थे होवन सारे अन्ने।
ना कोई साडी जात पछाने,
ना कोई सानू मन्ने।
Baba Bulle Shah says let's go to a place where everyone is blind. A land where no one could recognize us with our cast and creed, and no one appreciates us based on who and what we are.

Every walk I have attended with Asif Sahab has an intrinsic value in my life. It is difficult to describe that in words, but you might see a reflection somewhere in between my writeups. Every walk satisfies my appetite in one way or the other. Some quench my thirst for listening to endless stories. Some enrich my awareness of the people, places, and things which existed in some other era. And then there are some which satisfy my wild curiosity.
The last walk I attended was a cocktail of all of those.
We were sitting on the large rocks of the long-lost Aravalli, just behind the tomb of Azim Khan. The gigantic Qutub Minar was in the view. The Sun was about to bid adieu for the day when Asif Sahab began.
'There was a time when we all were formless and shapeless. It was when there was no religion, no caste, no creeds.
It was then we were in "Alam E Arwah", that we were as one soul. We know each other long before entering into this world.'
His words were enough to kick-start my never-ending imagination. I couldn't control my mind at that moment, nor I can control my hand right now.
And then the Almighty took one big bowl of clay and started shaping each of us with his bare hands. Writing the roles one has to play in this physical world. And then we all fall softly one by one on the face of the earth, just as a feather kissing softly the ground. 
'And this world - which you and I call physical is 'Alam E Dunya'.
A crucial thing happens between the journey from Alam E Arwah to Alam E Dunya. Somewhere in between that journey, we lose our memory. We can't recall what all happened there. We can't recognize the souls with whom we were together. All those memories wash away like the blackboard before the next class begins.
I could imagine my soft landing on the earth. 
Yes, I was there once. I must have been conscious at first when I was shaped into this body. I must have been alone for the first time. I must have been overwhelmed when I commenced my journey to Alam E Dunya. 
And then on one alien turn, I must have seen a tunnel of light. By passing through it slowly, all the memories must have vanished.
And then I must have touched the face of the Earth. I must have seen some strange faces looking at me smiling and sobbing. But little did I know that I was trapped under certain labels and identities. I was recognized by a name. A caste was attached to it. A religion must be attached to it. A certain financial status was attached to it. I was identified by the color of my face - my ethnicity must have been important to many.
I was taught quite well to hate people who fall under different labels, recognized by different identities. I was trained to believe that the path I'm following is superior to the others. 
When you zoom out on this scenario a little bit, you start seeing that we all are differentiated with barbed wires from the people whose paths are totally different. I was taught to have a super Ill feeling towards them and they must have thought likewise.
All this drama of labels, identities, and recognition goes on and on when something magical happens.
A day comes when someone enters your life and you suddenly travel before the time when the tunnel of light comes into the journey. At his or her first glance you feel that you know that person quite well. You feel that you can trust him with all that you have. Conversation or no conversation, you still feel that there is something between that person and you that can't be described in this so-called physical world 
That is the person who was once your companion soul in Alam E Arwah.
And sometimes an incident happens and you start seeing some pattern in it. Some conversation, some colors, or some scenarios. Slowly you start recognizing that pattern and you understand that the exact thing has happened at some other time, some other place.
Yes, we term it as DejaVu today. But terms, theories, and equations have majorly no answers to so many 'stupid' questions that come across our minds.
Some other time...
Some other place...
'Is Jannat (heaven) a time or a place?' Asif Sahab asks us. 
After mixed answers, he started explaining about a place called 'Alam E Barzakh'. That is where we all will go when we leave our mortal body and our role ends in Alam E Dunya. 
It is difficult for me to describe that but about one thing I'm quite sure about. A light tunnel will again be there on the route to Alam E Barzakh. When I pass through that tunnel, it will be more like a feeling of waking up from a deep and dreamy slumber.

You know the words which I was listening to were more like deadly bullets shot towards me.  They were hitting me with an enormous force that the damage it had caused was visible to me. I could see a bloody puncture near my heart. The blood that was oozing out of it was dark, almost black.
When nothing was left to ooze out of that wound, the light started entering into it.

'Alam E Arwah'
I think Baba Bulle Shah must have mentioned Alam E Arwah when he said these lines -
चल बुल्लेया चल ओथे चलिए 
जित्थे होवन सारे अन्ने।
ना कोई साडी जात पछाने,
ना कोई सानू मन्ने।
Love, Laughter, and Peace 
HRN


Thursday, November 24, 2022

Tamasha and the Silsila of storytelling







"You know what, there is an abandoned church near my home" I whispered to my friend when our teacher told us to keep our heads down as she was having a headache.
My friend started paying attention to me. With his left ear attached to that wooden desk, he was looking directly into my eyes. 
"One day, I went near that church on my bicycle to collect lemon tree leaves for our science homework. I climbed the little boundary of the church to pluck some leaves when I heard the vibrating 'Tong' of some big bell from inside." He was darn curious.
(I started tapping my fingers on the desk to add sound effects of my footsteps toward the window of the church.)
"When I wiped the window of that abandoned church, I saw a group of people with white hair as cotton. a few of them even had big white beards. I was trying to understand what was happening when the whole group looked started looking at me."
My friend's eyes were now moving to and fro, grasping each word I was saying.
"Suddenly, a man with sunken shoulders and bloodshot eyes started gliding towards me, as if he was flying in the air. I took no time to understand that he has no feet."
"I ran for my life when I stumbled upon something and fall."
I tapped on the desk, a bit loud this time - Loud enough to spike a bit more pain in our Teacher's head... and throw me out of the class.
While going back home that day, my friend came running towards me. 
"Where do you live? I'll come to your home on my bicycle today, will you take me to that church?" I can't forget his puppy face.
"Not today brother. My cousin is coming from Bombay today. We will be visiting Appu Ghar in the evening.
I never had a cousin who ever lived in Bombay. Just like there was no abandoned church near my home.

I love telling and listening to stories since my childhood. I have always believed and made others believe that there is a lamp, on which if you rub gently, a genie comes out and asks for three wishes. I remember showing my cricket bat to one of my friends with a 'Brittania' logo on it. I made him believe that it was Virendra Sehvag's bat and the genie got that for me.
And on one occasion I told my Tuition teacher that I have the power to foretell people's past by looking at their palms. She gave me her hand and I told her that there was one stranger who came into her room when she was a newborn baby. And that stranger will again visit her life, and she needs to beware of him. She smiled and told me to concentrate on my fourth standard final exams.
I'm not a storyteller - But yes, I told stories to people on the occasions when people least expect them. Be it some incomplete homework excuse or some serious job interview, I had a compelling story for each occasion.
But then this phase came into my life when I had to forge a personality as per the rules set by someone else. I had to bring some 'so-called' necessary changes in my life. Like reading motivational and self-help books. Smile, no matter how phony it looks. Focus on doing firm handshakes. Shave daily. Nodding your head even if you disagree with something. Wear a card around your neck. Talk about work and management on tea and lunch breaks. Smile, and smile some more. 
Learn new English words each day and try to use them on daily basis. Run to catch that to-and-fro shuttle to the metro station. Run for some adequate space to stand in the metro. Smile at your co-passengers. Come back home and send smiling emoticons to the person you are talking to on WhatsApp.
Sleep.
Get up the next morning.
Repeat all that again.
I could not manage to maintain that personality for more than seven months.
One fine day, I met a friend of mine accidentally in the metro. We decided to have dinner together. While sitting in a little 'Dhaba' kind of structure, we started discussing theories about the possibility of life after death.
That night, I told a story to him about this boy who died and came back to life after an hour or so. And, during that commercial break between death and life, he saw paradise.
When the story ended, I noticed him looking directly into my eyes. I tried to look somewhere else. I feel uncomfortable when people look directly into my eyes - as if they will discover something that I don't want them to discover.
You should watch Tamasha
His words still ring in my ears.
And that night something magical happened. I watched the movie and I cried. Something had changed - I don't know what, but something surely changed. 
The next morning was as fresh as dew drops on the leaves in the garden. I woke up as an excited kid who loves telling and listening to stories. A kid who still reads stories from the Panchtantra and Arabian Nights.A kid who fell in love with the ghost stories of Ruskin Bond. A kid who loves writing short and simple stories, which are most of the time away from reality. 
And yes, I'm still trying to gain that confidence back to whisper stories of abandoned churches to my friend. One day I will be able to do that again.
So, my reader friend, everyone is born with some imbibed interest. But we let that interest or passion step down from the stage of our lives, and let other boring characters perform. Just like 'Prasar Bharati' appears out of a sudden on DD National, and that too between the final fight of 'Shaktiman and Tamraj Kilvish'. How will you react when something like this actually happens?
Don't do that, Please. I'm not saying you to leave your job and follow your passion. But don't let that passion die. Trust me, you will lead an ecstatic life - without even following what these new-age Gurus say. 

Another way of being happy is... to call me and I will tell you a good story... Umm... maybe of Ebenezer Scrooge and the Ghosts of the Past, Present, and the future. :-)
Thank you for reading this.
Chalo ab mai chala Hiran ke Shikar par...
Love, Laughter, And Peace
Himanshu R Nagpal
ps:- I'm writing more about the movie. So, stay tuned if you enjoyed reading this. :)

जलसा...

जैसे ही बसंत के अलविदा कहने का समय आता है, शहर में चहल-पहल बढ़ जाती है। पौ फटते ही खिलखिलाती धूप पूरे शहर को एक गर्म चादर में सम...