An Old Friend

Y - What?... Philosophy ! You mean to say, you spent your whole graduation sitting near by the banks of Ganges, intoxicated in some damn fucking philosophical world and ideologies. Why do you always over rate these absurd writings and also expect us to rate them esoteric?

X - No... I don't

Y - You do it. You have done it since your child hood days.

X - I meant... I don't want you to rate it.

Y - What has communism, socialism, philosophy, literature, poems and ... whatever... given to the society. These have just portrayed a non existent world to people like you and refrained you from reality. Tell me..what has they given?

X -  I don't know. I thought I knew it earlier.

Y - and now...my lord... what do you think about your thoughts?

X - Now, I don't think. At most I guess, I am a lazy sack.


X and Y were not siblings. They started with different schools. India was then witnessing the neo-liberal economic reforms,so,  their fathers, to get rid of retro caste revealing names, stamped them with identities of Axe and Wahi. It so happened that, both of them landed in same boarding school. They entered as 10 years old kids.

Desperate to add more imaginations, rather, absurdity in their nomenclatures, a batch-mate of them convinced others to call them X and Y. Y was the batch topper. One of the most decent, modest and intelligent kids. Once, during a normal introduction class, when some teacher asked him about his best friend , almost every one desired to hear their names.

X was never explained by his family, whether they were rich or not.However, he always thought himself to be rich in imaginations. Y was one of his best friend. When the teacher asked Y about his best friend, Y replied  - Z and in a moment drops fell off X eyes. Let bygones be bygones.

His batch mates believed that X suffers mood swings, though, X some times justified himself that he is some tough guy born with difference, and some other times felt that he lacks concentration. X used to have sudden strong likings and fascinations for any unexpected entity that happened to come across him. His sporadic desires ranged from stone pebbles to an expensive parker pen. No one knew, or to be more precise, no one was ever interested in his whims and sixty percent of the times, X wanted them not to know and discuss about it. As he grew older, percentage of such times increased, and his fascinations started spreading more and more wings.

When X desired of any thing, he used to do anything and everything to own that, and if he got that, he used to get bore of it in a day. His self justifications included satisfaction, intellectualism, modesty, etc. He never resisted his impulse. X tried to get bore of Y's friendship. He could never manage that, and this infuriated him. He spent lot of time to find faults of Y, so that he get bore of Y. Apart from silly arguments and some squabble, he could manage nothing.

They did not converse for next 7 years. X got fascinated by literature. He read it and got bored; liked communism followed it and got bored; praised tranquility of mind, tried it and got bored.

He is trying to call Y after these so many years. While the connections are yet to be established, X is murmuring and imagining some conversations. Same old impulse!

Y is not picking the call. He never picked it for the last 3 years. X is scribbling some texts ... Some of my friends are in so much hurry to write their future...that they prefer to delete history. After all who cares for torn yellow pages.Let bygones be bygones.

मोसे और लिखा नहीं जाए*

बदरा मोरे अंगना पिघल गएँ,
बैरी बड़े इतरायें,
अंखियों ने जो गीत लिखा है,
मोहे सारी रात चिढाये;
मोसे और लिखा नहीं जाए..

दर्द ये मीठा, थमता नहीं है,
सावन भी रह रह इतराए
हर आहट हम करवट बदलें,
मोहे सजनी की याद सताए
मोसे और लिखा नहीं जाए

याद में तोरी रात गुजर गयी,

बदरा पिघल छिप जाए

नयनो में तोहे भर लेंगे,
तोरे नयनो से अब ना लजाएँ
मोसे और लिखा नहीं जाए...

*Inspired by मोरे सैयां मोसे बोलत नाही