Apna gharbaar

So far it is only a rented place I fondly call 'ghar'. And there aren't enough interested people to make it a bar. Hic. But its a nice friendly place. A tad too friendly I believe.
The transition from a college bhola bhala bachcha to an earning, "set types" according to some, and consumer of white goods [by which I don't mean gai ka doodh] happened over night. A generous heart, a mighty luck and you have it. AC wacey bhi lagwa liya. [ bas racy aur lacy ki bari hai ] If you get what I mean, don't tell. If you dont get what I mean, don't ask. Time will tell.
I miss the old innocent days. When I used to be college types. When little kids wouldn't accidently call me 'uncle'. When school going girls seemed too young, and PG girls too old.
[ Now : working and shirking girls are too old, college-going girls are too young ]
Its an interesting experience, going to numerous shops without intending to buy anything. Asking the shopkeeper informed questions to indicate a genuine curiosity. Beating the heating with cool AC air, and when the sweat has dried away, vanishing into thin air. Now is the right time to do it. In college days, the shopkeeper would instantly recognise the lack of interest in buying, and a few years from now, when pillow will cease to be a constant companion, it will become a matter of ijjat. And life and death.
In some sense, we still have a lot of conservative values. Whether it is for good or bad is a question only hindsight can decide. What values you ask me. Values that we display day in and day out.
"Oh they are living together. Unke parents ko pata nahi hoga"
"He dropped out of college. Fail ho gaya kya"
"Naukri lag gayee. Ab shadi kar lo"

I get too restless at times. It becomes next to impossible for me to keep on waiting. Reminds me of one of those positive negatives people like to write as a weakness on their CV - " I become impatient for results". I never can explain the situation in rational terms. May be, I could say, the flow in my stomach crosses Reynold's limit and becomes turbulent. The mind stops attending to anything else. It starts wandering at the speed of light and time stops. Ab isse jyada IIT mein padha nahi.
But thats what it is. A situation unfathomable to the strong willed and strong hearted. For kamzor dil wale like us, whose parents hated the taste of Safola, there is no recourse. Except to pray to God that time will help.


A nice ghazal:
Hoshwalon ko khabar kya, bekhudi kya cheez hai....