वो ऊन के उलझे नरम गोले
जो लिपटे नारंगी के कसैले रेशों में
ऐसे बिखरे पड़े रहते मानो
छत की सूखी ज़मीन पर
पड़ी दरारों को मना रहे हों... कि
धूप जाएगी, और तुम्हारी वेदना शांत होगी
एक दिन ...
बचपन की तो वेदना ही थी ना ...
वो सफ़ेद बादलों से झांकती हुई मीठी सी धूप
अब देह तरस गयी है
पर कितना किलसेगी यह सोचकर... कि
अब उस ऊन का और
छत पे पड़ी उस टूटी चटाई का ...सहारा कहाँ ?
ये जो क्षणिक सुख है तेरा
कभी ठंडी छाँव जैसा, या कभी सवेरा
कभी यूँ पतझड़ सा तुझसे बिछड़ना
कभी तेरी बातों की सिहरन में लिपटना
कभी तेरी शरारती हंसी में, आशाओं के अंकुरों का फूटना
क्या है ये सब बता?
ये जो क्षणिक माया है तेरी
बच्चों से अल्हड़ ख्वाबों से भरी
जैसे मेरे आईने में तेरी प्यारी सी झलक
कभी मेरे होठों पर तेरी यादों कि कसक
कभी तेरी सूनी साँसों में मेरा वो पैगाम
क्या है ये सब बता?
ये जो क्षणिक दिन और रातें
जिनमें है तेरा रैन-बसेरा
क्षण मात्र का, कब तक रहेगा?
शायद ये कभी था ही ना अपना कहने को
मुझे पता है, तू कुछ नहीं कहेगा
पूछना बेकार है कि, क्या है ये सब बता?
We all have our weird days, and I had another one of mine recently when my five girlies who are by the way in their early twenties, said to me, “We’ve heard about it, but have never seen one and… don’t really know how it works!”
Well, what is it?
….A Condom!
So they didn’t know the C of condoms. Now that’s a bit shocking, especially for someone who has been in the condom and safe sex promotion business for a while, talking about it all day and fetching a salary from it (yeah!). Their revelation almost had me knocked down and if ignorance is bliss, as some say, it can come with a baby or a deadly virus.
So why was I shocked? – Because
we’re ladies, we have a uterus and it’s not 1924 anymore. If not anything else,
we owe it to ourselves to take our lives in our own hands. If you decide to
have sex, with whomever you want to, you should know the nearest supermarket or
chemist shop, and definitely know how to put a condom on correctly. After all,
what fun is sex if you’re left worrying afterwards about pregnancy and Sexually
Transmitted Infections (STIs) –including HIV/AIDS!
Getting back to my story –
Pushing my shock aside, we got straight down to business (the business of
discussing safe sex) and I spilled the beans and cucumbers and bananas (Haa!);
Consciously within the boundaries of friendly boasts, I threw a series of innocent
banters at them and got them talking.
And so went the night when the
Estro-Club revealed their outdated sex-ed status, and I felt like a sexed-up
beacon. Thankfully with friends you can (and must!) take those few extra
liberties and tell them what they need to know, before it’s too late. They will
be embarrassed, but hey, who isn’t? Remember your first encounter with a condom
advertisement? Or how you sat still when it flashed on your TV screen while you
were having family time? Or even when you bought your first condoms?
In the end (or shall we say
beginning?), why you need sex is definitely a no-brainer, but what you do
before and during is something you might want to think about. And if you don’t
know, please get to know. The deal is simple: know your sex stuff, be
ready, use a condomand be on top (pun intended here!).
And by the way, I showed my
girlies a condom... for starters. J This article was published on the BBC World Service Trust website.
Extracts from Kahlil Gibran’s romantic letters to a woman, taken from the book Love Letters from a Prophet, Ediouro
10/03/1912
Mary, my dear Mary, how could you think that you are giving me more pain than joy? Nobody knows for sure what the line is between pain and pleasure; I often think it’s impossible to separate them. You give me so much joy that it hurts, and you cause me so much pain that I get to smile.
08/07/1914
I always thought that when someone understands us, they end us enslaving us because we expect everything to be understood. However, understanding has brought me peace and freedom more profound than I’ve ever experienced. In the two hours of your visit, you found a black spot in my heart, and touched him, and it disappeared forever- making me see my own light.
18/04/1915
The days we were together were magnificent. When we talk about the past, we become more real in the present and future. For many years, I dreaded to look at what I had lived, and suffered in silence. Today I understood that silence makes us suffer more deeply. But you make me talk, and I find dusty things hiding in my soul, which I then pull away.
17/07/1915
We are both trying to touch the limits of our existence. The great poets of the past always worked themselves to Life.
They were looking for something specific, or trying to uncover secrets; they simply let their souls be overwhelmed by emotions. People are always seeking security, and sometimes do, but safety is an end to itself, and life has no end.
Poets are not those who write poetry, but are those whose hearts are filled with the holy spirit of love.
10/05/1916
Dear Mary: I am sending a parable that I finished. I have written little, and only in Arabic. But I would like to hear your corrections and suggestions on this passage:
In the shadow of a temple, my friend pointed out a blind man.
My friend said, “This man is a wise man.”
I approached, and asked, “How long have you been blind?”
“Since I was born.”
“I am an astronomer,” I said.
“Me too,” the man answered. And placing his hand on his chest, said, “I spend my life watching the many suns and stars that move in me.”
My only effort here was to type Gibran's words; words that are more than just words.
The drops too small, moistening my mane Not just that, too low did they fall
The earth puffed up, looking so rough
Promised me a walk, on that familiar lane.
I walked past the known, right with myself,
Wondering too hard, are reasons insane?
The drop grew heavier, the Earth so full
Almost snatched the veil, that draped the bodice self
It slapped my face hard, refusing to be lame
The moment proclaimed, a thought inside the skull.
The matter never reflected, not at least too often
The drops in that hour, proved to be a solace
The life within the water, water within the shrine
Drops bearing clarity, preaching me a chapter. As I stared too hard, deeper into the space
The drop seemed clear, like the thoughts divine.
The lines that were out, dispersed into colours
Seven wasn't the count, not that they were dull
The questions that remained, indifferent & profane
Not to me of course, but to the fellow strollers
Rarity overpowered and it wasn't a lull.
How did this ever happen? And it wasn't inane.
Theories are words, words are sham
When they sprout without a reason I knew it wasn't me, it was the holy Other
Anyone but me, and every other glance
Wondering if they mean, anything but treason
If not the person, is it there to bother?
"I don't have an inspiration. I had you before, but not anymore", he replied.
"So what different did I do then?"
(She never got her answer)
She told herself: When they were together she didn't do anything that could have added any value to him or his life in anyway. She thought so. She's still the same from what she thinks. And now that they are no more together, she doesn't see a difference in her actions as compared to the previous times. So what made the difference? What changed?
Nothing from her side, she thought. It was him who made the difference. It was his sole perception and image of her that changed and made the difference. His perception was different then, it voluntarily changed later. He believed her to be someone then, but not anymore. Though she's still the same from her side, to him, to herself.
He thought she was his muse, but that's past now. It's all about him and she's no where. Not that she's complaining, but only wondering that was she ever significant to him as a person or was she just an image that had a purpose? An image unaware of her own significance, if any. An image that was created by a mind to be discarded one day.
