Heart to Heart

     एकला चलूँगा कोरोना का कहर बरपा , गुजर ही गयी बरस 2021 की लम्बी, मुश्किल रात छोड़ गयी अपने/पराये बिछुडों की, और राह नापते बेबसों की यादों भरी दुखद सौगात   अब कब से आशा की बांग दे रहा है सर उठा, 2022 का सरपट खिसकता साल- और मेरे जन्म दिवस पर, देख जिज्ञासा की निगाहों से मुझे, है पूछ रहा बारम्बार एक सवाल: “पगले कब तक ढूँढते फिरोगे जीवन में सही-गलत के माने उलझ कर धर्म-ग्रंथों के मकड़ीजाल में? ‘पाप-पुण्य’ के माने ही खोजते रहोगे क्या विभिन्न चश्मों से, डूब शब्दकोशों के मायावी जंजाल में? ‘गर जीना है तो कभी तितली/खग संग उड़ो स्वछन्द, कभी बनो सुगन्धित कमल-पुष्प, कभी तरुवर की शीतल छाँव    और उगल कर सब हिंसा/नफ़रत, बनो सूरज, चाँद, सितारे, और फैलाओ लौ करुणा-प्यार की इस दुखड़े संसार में हर गाँव क्षुद्र विचारों, गुरुरों, चतुराइयों की पैनी धार से अपने ही पर काट उड़ ना सके तुम नभ के नीले अनंत दामन में अरे, अब तो पी लो घूँट कुछ एक, सजे हैं अभी भी रंग कमाल के मधुशाला के खुले मनोहर आँगन में दकियानूसी लोग जो करते हैं सवाल भोहें चढ़ा, नजरों से संदेहों की बिजली गिरा, कहते हैं “फरेबी”, “सन

                                                  Rise and rise of Arvind Kejriwal Did you, dear friends, even for a flimsy second then think that this, once blue-eyed boy of Anna Hazare, would be the CM of Delhi? Not just that. A shrewd, wily politician who would extend his reach to Punjab? Pose a threat in Himachal and Gujarat? And even look the BJP in the face and give it shivers as one who might one day stop its juggernaut rolling defiantly over almost whole Bharatvarsh? I never did. Arvind Kejriwal is indeed a politician who has mastered the art of playing his political cards with cunning and deftness so essential to survive and thrive in the no-holds-barred, bloody, thrust-and-parry mortal combat in the political ring. Otherwise starting from scratch with zero cadre strength, no financial muscle and no goons/gundas/machines to unleash fear among the defenseless innocent poor, how could have he stayed afloat in the choppy, turbid waters of politics? If the BJP played the R

                                  Where will the Ukraine war lead us? As the Ukraine war rages on and Atlas shrugs, the globe’s powerless citizen asks: “Oh hell! Where and when is this insane tandav of destruction going to end?” And from his melancholy-filled recesses deep inside comes the plaintive fearful moan, “God knows; but only hope and pray it doesn’t lead to nuclear war.” Similar fear has been voiced by the wise old professor-philosopher Noam Chomsky in his recent interview (The Indian Express, April 7). Says he, “We may move on to terminal nuclear war if we do not pursue the opportunities that exist for a negotiated settlement.”   Speaking further about the prospect of decimation of human life on Earth from almost irreversible environmental destruction and climate change, he adds, “It doesn’t mean everyone is going to die but it does mean moving to a future in which the lucky ones will be those who die quickly.” Grim, ominous forebodings these! Well, when we have Hitlers

  Of books and litfests “Some books,” Francis Bacon famously said, “are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested.” But as Dylan wrote and sang, ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’. In the digital world of today Bacon’s wise words may sound a little incongruous, when even our daily news feed comes not so much from the newspaper sheets being shuffled around over sips of morning tea in the backdrop of bird song and the sun rays singing the hymn of dawn, as from google news on the mobile … When the book shops, including some iconic ones, all over the world, are pulling down their shutters … When we have OTTs and social media outlets to splurge on … When we have radio broadcasts to hear, religious conclaves to attend, slogans to shout and video/text messages to peddle.   When we have IPLs and a mind-boggling array of TV serials on our platter, where do we have the time and inclination to “taste”, “swallow”, “chew” and “digest” say, B N Goswamy’s soul-elevati

                                                             Cry in the wilderness India never stops hogging the headlines for wrong reasons, sadly. If earlier it was about our unflattering place lower down the order on the Happiness Quotient beating   our smaller cousins in the   neighbourhood – Nepal, Bangladesh, and even the-perpetually-at-war our pesky northwest neighbour – here comes another stinker, though hardly surprising: on the pollution front. Our state of Delhi being propelled by the double engine of Kejriwal and the almighty Centre (though often pulling in opposite directions at most times) outshines (pun intended) all the world capitals in being the most polluted of all. Hold on. There is more. 35 of the 50 most polluted cities in the world belong to India. And out of the 15 most polluted ones in Central and South Asia, as many as 11 are in India. In other words leaving aside just 4, all the rest nestle on the very bosom of our mother India. I recall that during the C