Well... A dear one asked me to remember these lines, for reasons best known to him. But I abide and post them as an advance preparation for the final DASVIDANIYA!!
Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega Teer-e-nigaah-e-naaz nishaana dhoondega Mujhko mere baad zamaana dhoondega Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega
Log mere khwaabon ko churaa ke dhaalenge afsaanon mein Mere dil ki aag bategi, duniya ke parwaanon mein Waqt mere geeton ka khazana dhoondega Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega Teer-e-nigaah-e-naaz nishaana dhoondega
Saathi mujhko yaad karenge, bheegi bheegi shaamon mein Lekin ek masoom sa dil bhi, in saare hangaamon mein Chhup chhup ke ronay ka bahana dhoondega Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega Teer-e-nigaah-e-naaz nishaana dhoondega
Aas ka suraj saath rahega, jab saanson ki raahon mein Gham ke andhere chatt jayenge, manzil hogi baahon mein Pyar dhadakte dil ka thikana dhoondega Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega Teer-e-nigaah-e-naaz nishaana dhoondega Mujhko mere baad zamaana dhoondega Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega
India Gate needs no introduction or historical background nor am gonna bore my good readers with any insight into the colonial significance of the War Memorial. No mentioning of any candle-light vigils for seeking delayed justice or supporting a cause at the national heritage site...or for that matter narrating any harrowing eve-teasing experience. This blog is a result of an ice cream treat with a dear buddy one fine evening at the monument…With each dollop melting in our mouths crystallized special moments in time!
We entered into a conversation of what India Gate means to thousand souls gazing at it, crossing it, hailing it, shunning it…at all hours of the day and night. Am sure the monument holds some sq feet space in their memories, be they good or bad.
Ladies first!
As I peeled out thin choco wrap of my ice-cream cone, the layers of past too got off one by one and the time machine began to roll back. The childhood memories of school and family picnics. A must-to-be dinner in the lawns in the summer holidays and munching of ChanaJorGaram in sunny wintry afternoons. College life skipped that fun. In next frame I saw myself sharing a tiffin with my ex there once; covering the anti-reservation agitation by medical students in scorching heat; digging into golguppas and ice-cream with my love after leaving from work… Washing down the true lie of a dear one in tears (Why did he choose me of all when I never did any wrong to him!) and a desperate attempt to save my ever lasting bond from slipping out of my hands. The building has witnessed all!
My good man sensed the nostalgia choking my voice and cautioned me about the last bit of the ice-cream dripping down from the gaps of my fingers. Back to present with much left unspoken.
Now it was his turn. He, being a Delhi citizen only for the last five years, didn't have to chronicle his 28 good springs like I did. But still he finds the building quite enigmatic. He and his fellow colleagues lay on the grassy lawns post working hours in the late evenings and making future plans. Where they will be in next five years. Giving wings to their dreams and desires. I wonder if any of them have thought of reviving the exercise, even just for fun to break the monotony of the daily wage struggle. Phew! Or how he rode his bike towards the India Gate in the wee hours when the entire city was sleeping under the blanket of fog. What a chilling experience manJ
The emotional meanderings finally reached a climax in a soft promise that the two of us made to meet each other on the same date 30 springs hence (if only we live to see them J. Who knows where each one of us will be and in what state.)
May be many go there everyday to fulfill such promises or wishes but cross in oblivion.
But my promise stands erect and strong as the memorial in red brick, with regular haunting of what will be my state of mind visiting the landmark 30 years later and not finding it there at all!! Thanks to the scourge of terror invading and gripping our lives and normalcy like never before. If any anti-India radical reading my cluttered piece by misfortune, please spare the memorial coz it is a testimony of not just what a nation of a billion population aspires for but also the memorabilia each part of that billion carries within them. The giggling and the tears, the prayers and the vows—all together.
A 29-year-old Delhiite struggling to adjust to her new found singlehood. This blog is not what i want to share with the world, just what i cannot keep to myself!!
Dil ka soona saaz taraana dhoondega
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