IN MOMENTS WHERE WE EXIST

In moments where we exist
With thoughts you insist
To go where we had been
To speak what we had seen
That is what we did
In moments where we exist
Hours, days and months
When we learnt how life confronts
Sometimes up, sometime down
But always a journey to uptown
Just love and love and love
And peace was the only treasure trove
This is what we did
In moments where we exist
We spoke, and we didn’t speak
But we travelled to a known peak
Where dreams were real
And where life was ethereal
We were in a land so celestial
So divine, that they called it surreal
But we knew the moments where we exist
Oh all that we did
In moments where we exist
The day when we decided to break free
Of the period we thought we could see
It took some weeks, maybe some months
But we learnt how life confronts
To go where we had been
To speak what we had seen

ALSWL

©SantoshChaubey

MEMORIES….

It was yet a summer day
Seven years to that winter
When it was a different song
And with a difficult note
So rough was its melody
That all was lost into it
So intensely it was done
That he was left all to him
Days were frosty and alone
Even if it was a summer sun
Life flowed, melted
Left bruised, dispirited
The winter that stayed
In a summer that swayed
Seven years to that winter
It was again a summer day
In by-lanes of memories
When it all came rushing in
That’s still a different song
Been there all along
But seven years is so long
That it has got all along
Staying there, in a corner
Albeit, without its marker

©SantoshChaubey

O CHILDHOOD

O childhood
I was again lost in your innocence
When you didn’t ask me why
Your anger looks so complete
For both of us
That it doesn’t need words
Like that expression on your face
As natural, as reactive,
As life is supposed to be
You speak when you feel
You react when you have to
A freedom so natural to us
Yet we have to crave for it
In a life, driven by compulsions
We have almost forgotten
What it is about being a human
Our broken souls do cry inside
But in a painted world
Where we selectively cry
As it is invitational to its semiotics
And so to our inhibitions
When I see you o childhood
I realize what I have lost in life
And I go through this grind so often

©SantoshChaubey

QUESTIONS..QUESTIONS..

Questions that life so habitually throws
That sometimes they get that overdose
To the extent that it becomes so gloomy
Instead of a simple row with life
Questions, sometimes, embrace thorns
When it had to be a rose, even if verbose
Questions, sometimes, lose their repose,
And, at times, repulse to a listless state
Questions, sometimes, lose their weaving
Any why! Only in order to get apposed
Questions, sometimes, bring us together
But at times, they also send us afar
Questions, sometimes, push us to the altar
When we seem to be lost in a war within
Questions, sometimes, they leave their scars
Visible even in a future where past sucks
Questions, sometimes, split you
Ready with a scimitar, to mutilate you
Questions, sometimes, bring some thoughts
That you find you are totally at odds with
Questions, sometimes, create complexes
To simply get you confused in their maze
Questions, sometimes, ask like a fanatic
As to, why don’t you follow this zealot
Questions, sometimes, behave like an abbot
Who is ready to wait till infinity for his godot
Questions, sometimes, question their space
But a void is all that covers their face

©SantoshChaubey

EXPECTATIONS

Sometimes, you feel empty from within
Sometimes, you need to feel lost
Sometimes, it is a journey to nowhere
Sometimes, words just don’t add up
Sometimes, you just need it to be like this
When you fail to speak to even your soul
Life has been brutalized by expectations
‘What was there yesterday’ is not over
Yet ‘what will be there tomorrow’ begins
Life has become a maze of equations
Of burdening relations, of forced lies
You don’t know when you stopped caring
For a life that you had begun together
You could not realize when it slipped out
Like a borrowed identity, like a fake living
That life became a stranger in your chores
You got habituated to what you despised
Words used to be your friends in a past
But they sound like quirky existences now
Sometimes, they flow, like a yesterday
But their friction hounds every other day
Asking questions you don’t want to answer
But the truth is you need to answer them
It is not that you don’t realize this
But swept over by expectations of a life
That you never thought would be yours
You find those spaces of sanity choked
You meet your estranged life and soul
And fail to read your past and present
In a mad rush to meet expectations
When you can’t connect with words
Where you can’t correlated with journey
When your identity looks like a stranger
Where your life stops making any sense
In moments, when pain becomes unbearable
You cry for an honest introspection
You long for a clean slate, again, from within
And you madly try to make sense of words
On a journey that you did not choose
In moments like these, you try to feel lost
In a desperate effort to speak to your soul
To make sense of where it all began
To see if you can still heal your existence

©SantoshChaubey

RELATIONS ON UNMET FULCRUMS

Relations, sometimes they exist on unmet fulcrums
You see its flow but always feel like a bystander
Who knows he has some stake there to talk about
But the indifference seldom lets you go beyond that
You visit those ends like the routine of your life
Yet you feel the sort of disconnect that is so known
That you never feel the need to sit with your senses
On why certain relations speak for you as they should
But there are still other relations that just fill the void
It could have been better, could have been more
You sometimes think in your moments of aloofness
But when it comes to walking the steps to there
You end up talking compulsions that lead you away
From the fulcrum of those unmet corridors of life
Some of them would have just loved to sit with you
Probably speaking the words you were looking for

©SantoshChaubey

WHEN KEJRIWAL, SISODIA, NADDA AND OTHERS FAILED AN 80-YEAR OLD DISABLED, HELPLESS WOMAN

A lady, around 80 years, wheelchair bound, in an old-age home, with no one to take care of her in desperate medical emergencies – should the state ignore such cases – especially when they are tagged and tweeted multiple times about it – especially when they tweet and retweet multiple times a day – showing their social media alertness and connect to the world?

If that happens so – it tells how insensitive our political class has become – and in this case, it exactly came out like this!

And the ‘very aam aadmi-esque Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) or the claimed harbinger of change in Indian politics, the Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP) are to share the blame here.

The grandma in question here is 80 year old Mrs. Phool Mehta, an old-age home resident from Delhi’s Mayur Vihar Phase 1. She lost her husband some years back and has no son or daughters or any other immediate family. She has no regular source of income apart from some savings, barely enough to sustain her life in the old-age home. She finds it hard to meet her routine medical needs, that are many, so managing finances for medical emergencies, that require huge sum, is out of question. Anyway, somehow, it has been managed so far somehow, like it is going to be this time.

She has multiple health issues. She is diabetic. She takes blood-pressure pills. She met an accident some years ago that has left her wheelchair bound. She has plates and rods in her thighs and hands, one of which she cannot use properly. She has ulcer and continuous internal bleeding leads to periodic Haemoglobin reduction. Her Hb at the moment is 5.2. Her both legs and left hand are swollen and it is spreading to other parts of the body. Yesterday, we took her to a nearby hospital but it refused to take her referring her to some higher centre for specialized care. They said her heart was enlarged, had oedema and they could not take the risk of blood transfusion in this case. We spoke to some Delhi government hospitals, including LBS and GB Pant but they, too, refused, saying they did not deal with such cases.

Doctors told us that the window of time that she had was very limited and so we very trying hard to get her hospitalized in some big hospital yesterday only but no headway was coming in. She was in imminent danger of a renal failure. Out of desperation, I tried to use social media to reach out to the Delhi government and Union Health Minister JP Nadda. Though I did not have much hopes, because I know politicians use social media selectively, going by the content that furthers their agenda, I did try. And I tried multiple times.

Delhi’s chief minister Arvind Kejriwal (@arvindkejriwal), Delhi’s Deputy Chief Minister Manish Sisodia (@msisodia) and Union Health Minister JP Nadda (@jpnadda) were tagged in all ten tweets that I shot yesterday, hoping they or someone from their team would respond to at least one of them. I also tagged @pmoindia, @sushmaswaraj, @atishimarlena, @raghav_chadha and @drkumarvishwas. But all of them, who are quite active of Twitter, couldn’t find time to look even once at my tweets. A friend even tagged Delhi’s Health Minister Satyendar Jain (@satyendarjain).

In an ideal situation, based on the founding principles of these parties, or the values they claim to live and die for, they would rushed to help. But I had expected, the help did not come. It reminded me of another ‘social media savvy’ Union Minister who never responds to uncomfortable or critical tweets – Rail Minister Suresh Prabhu.

Here are those tweets that I shot for Mrs. Mehta, the tweets that could find an alert from anyone in the Delhi Government or the Central Government. I do not want to go into a running commentary on moral obligations and ethical behaviour of our politicians because the episode is self-explanatory.

@SantoshChaubeyy
@msisodia : a 80 yr old old-age home lady in desperate need of medical help in Mayur Vihar Ph 1. Can some1 help?
12:29 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda : a 80 yr old old-age home lady in desperate need of medical help in Mayur Vihar Ph 1. Can some1 help?
12:59 PM – 18 Feb 2017

@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda 80 yr old oldage hom lady in desprate need of medical help in Mayur Vihar Ph1. Can some1 help? 3rd tweet.
2:44 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda 80 yr old oldage hom lady in desprate need of medical help in Mayur Vihar Ph1. Can some1 help? 4th tweet.
3:27 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@PMOIndia @ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda 80yr oldage hom grandma in desprate need of medical help in MY. Can some1 help? 6th tweet.
4:35 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda @SushmaSwaraj 80yr oldage hom grandma in desprate need of medical help in MY. Can some1 help? 7th tweet.
6:11 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda @DrKumarVishwas 80yr oldage hom grandma in desprate need f medical help in MY. Can some1 help? 8th tweet.
9:25 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda @AtishiMarlena 80yr oldage hom grandma in desprate need f medical help in MY. Can some1 help? 9th tweet.
9:49 PM – 18 Feb 2017

‏@SantoshChaubeyy
@ArvindKejriwal @msisodia @JPNadda @raghav_chadha 80yr oldage home grandma in desprate need f medical help in MY. Can some1 help? 10th tweet.
9:49 PM – 18 Feb 2017

So it was all for us to try – and we had no option here to fail.

Thankfully, I was also trying my alternate network – of social workers and volunteers. And it was finally this network that came to our rescue – with timely intervention and help from Sai Padma, Vaishnavi Jayakumar, Sailesh Mishra, Abha Khetarpal, Rajeshwar Devarakonda, Dr. AB Dey of AIIMS and many others. With the coordinated help of these dots, the guiding lights here, from different parts of India, Mrs. Mehta was finally admitted to the Geriatric Ward of AIIMS this afternoon.

The doctors have put her on Oxygen. They will treat her for oedema next and then will go for her blood transfusion, some three units minimum that she needs to come to a sustainable level of Hb in her blood. Then she needs some time to stabilize. Hope all will go well now.

©SantoshChaubey

THINK ABOUT IT..

Think about it passionately
Life is in this moment
Beckoning you from restless altars
Sing along with it
Why can’t you write a new piece?
Go by your inner call
This crap was never meant for you
Okay, what was there has flown
Now is the time
Think about it
Write your mind, write your moments
Speak your life, jive with your soul
Let your senses prevail
Let your call be heard
Go by what you are for
Think passionately, act joyfully
Life’s romance was always here
In this moment only
Get along with it
It was always there, waiting for you

©SantoshChaubey

MY FACE IS JUST AN ACCESS TO THE MIRROR..

My face is just an access to the mirror
Otherwise there is a deep disconnect
Perpetuated by years of dependence
Perpetrated by countless hours together
We never realized what would be the life
When reflections will tell different stories
Now there are colours to mix in yours
And there are colours to fade in ours
The mirror shows us those tales to plead
But I find you adrift, lost in yesteryears
And how would I not know the eventual
You are as I am, lost in time and its stories
My face, like yours, lost in each other, is,
Just an access to the mirror, not its stories

Entrapped by Loss

MY FACE IS JUST AN ACCESS TO THE MIRROR..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

IT WAS SO..NO SO LONG AGO..

It was so
Not so long ago
When reasons had gone dumb
And senses were forced to go numb
Life was in moments but not as a whole
It was so
Not so long ago
When a life was in denial
Even if succinct was every trial
Reasons came in flashes, on an isolated pole
It was so
Not so long ago
When nights used to be longer
And days had their dullness stronger
Words sounded hollow, as if coming from a deep hole
It was so
Not so long ago
When his poetry stopped being lyrical
As if the moments of reflection were mythical
He knew he had to fight back but he did not know the mole
It was so
Not so long ago
When it all seemed lost in a chasm
Trapped in a labyrinth of an endless sensory spasm
Where an identity was crushed even if all that was left was his soul..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/