Team Raita

Whatever happened to the kids, Mishra ji ? I don’t see them anymore. Yes, I understand that we as a society have been quite surgical at removing the threat of the girl child. But, the boys? What happened to them? Weren’t they supposed to be playing in the dirt, in the sun, all year long? Oh wait! Yes, they have to study to prep for the IITs. But wait wasn’t your son in standard 6 th ? Oh yes, a strong foundation is needed. Foundation…what exactly do you want to build on that foundation? The Eiffel Tower of your unfulfilled desires? Hanji Sharma ji, aapke ladle ka kya? We don’t see him enough these days to compare and belittle our kids. Our kids aren’t getting inspired lately. What?! He has joined dance classes? Good good. But wasn’t he interested in cartooning? Oh yes, I agree cartooning is a dangerous activity. You never know when someone will issue a fatwa or even kill you for exercising your freedom of expression. So why teach him dancing? To enter a talent-hunt reality ...

In this age, where love happens to people before puberty does and gets over before they can say ‘I love you’, there are some epic love stories that haven’t got their due. Especially mine. Or that is what I would like to think so. Or those can be my epic infatuation stories. It must be so because most of the girls have told me that. “You know, I don’t think its love. I believe it’s just infatuation.” Although, many of them wouldn’t know what that actually means. They think that it is susum wala love and not ishq wala love. However, as I understood over the years, the word infatuation is a euphemism for ‘No’. No Amit ji, not only No means No. When a girl speaks about your infatuation with her, even that means No. Not unlike what Rekha ji must have told you. So, while we are speaking about euphemisms, there is one single line, used to death by people, which has caused more heartbreaks than there are rockstars in this world and that is, ‘You deserve better’. Iss akeli line ne kitne ...

The city was tense. Local election was nearing its D-day. As usual, leaders of all the political parties in the fray had gone into a hyper drive delving into the usual blame game and name calling as well as the constant flavor of the season, fanning religious sentiments in order to consolidate their vote banks. The humble bovine had again shot into limelight with everyone having an opinion about its perceived importance in the thick of the things. Hindus were crying hoarse for a complete ban over cow killing in the state. Some learned Muslims agreed with the thought saying that the Qoran never mentioned about killing of cows for food but disagreed with the way some fringe right wing groups had taken upon themselves to teach those people a lesson who were rumored to have been killing cows. Some Muslim hardliners were absolutely against this and said that they had the right in a democratic country to eat whatever they wish. Reports of some feuds between the two communities had ...

वो एक भयावह कालरात्रि , जिसमे तुम्हें नींद ना आए जब तरह-तरह के प्रश्न तुम्हारे मानस पटल को छू जाए तुमको नींद ना आती हो , और तारे गिनना मुझे पड़ जाए जानू बेबी को अगले दिन चाहे ऑफिस में सोना पड़ जाए तुम्हे करनी हैं हज़ार बातें जिसकी मुझे है चाह नही परंतु परिणाम मैं जानता हुँ , अतः इस विडम्बना की भी राह नही मैं क्या खाया यह जान के तुम्हारा पेट भर जाएगा लेकिन तुम्हे भूखा सोता देख क्या ससुर मेरा सो पाएगा ? वैलेंटाइंस वीक के महापर्व पर तुमको खुश करना मेरा धरम है सातों दिन पर सात अजूबे लाना मेरा करम है नमो छोड़ो , भक्त तो तुम्हारा ये परम है दो हज़ार का टेड्डी है ये , होप मालकिन का मिज़ाज नरम है ट्युनिशिया कि जीडीपी जितना खर्च मुझसे करवाती हो सिर्फ मिस्ड कॉल देती हो , लेकिन मोबाइल का बिल भी भरवाती हो बेबी बेबी करके मेरी सैलरी जो खाती जाती हो बड़ा धमाका करने वाली इतने छोटे पैकेट मे कैसे आती हो ? मेरी एक-एक गलती को गिन-गिन के याद कराती हो खुद की गलतियों पर लेकिन तुम गजिनी बन जाती हो ‘ वी नीड टु टॉक ’ बोल के दिल जो मेरा दहलाती हो गिल्ट ट्रिप की सैर करा के ज...

किसी भी शादी में जाइये... नज़रें घुमाइये... ज़रा बताइये तो की सबसे ज़्यादा रुआब किसके चेहरे पर दिख रहा है ? दुल्हे के ? दुल्हे के पिता के ? दुल्हे के फुफा जी के , जिनको ना कड़ाही पनीर में कड़ाही मिला और ना ही नमक हलाल में उम्दा नमक ? जी नही! सबसे रुआबदार , सुर्य की कांति सा चमकता चेहरा फोटोग्राफर का होता है. वह उस वैवाहिक ब्रह्मांड के केंद्र में होता है. और इसी केंद्र के इर्द-गिर्द 2 क्विंटल मेक-अप लगाए अधेढ़ उम्र की महिलाएं , दो महिने की डाईटिंग के बाद भी पतले होने मे विफल लड़कियाँ और हल्की दाढ़ी रखे हुए गरीब से दिखते हुए लड़के एक निश्चित परिधी में घूमते रहते हैं कि फोटो वाले भैया उनकी नयी डीपी के लिए फोटो खीचेंगे. और ये खयाली पुलाओ अलग ही पक चुका होता है फेसबुक के एलबम के नाम ऐसे रखेंगे: वीरे दि वेडिंग , यार की शादी और ना जाने क्या-क्या! शादी कराते हुए पुरोहित को इतना भाव ना मिलता होगा , जितना टशन ये खा जाते हैं. और फोटो की डेप्थ क्या होती है , ड्रामा क्या होता है , ये लोग यश चोपड़ा को भी इस बात कि ट्रेनिंग दे सकते हैं. लाल चुनरी के पीछे से तस्वीर लेंगे क्युंकि इसका इफेक्ट...

"Mom!" Avantika shrieked as she rushed into the house. A girl of 19, Avantika was a bright student and multi-faceted girl with interests in various co-curricular activities. She was not a spoilt brat, but after a near death experience in an accident two years ago, which claimed the life of her father, she was showered with all love and care her mother could bestow upon her. "What is it this time?" Nalini wondered coming into the living room. She was a woman of 45, signs of age and stress showing on her beautiful face. Two years of raising a firebrand girl all alone had sapped away some life off her, but she still looked beautiful, if she tried. "What happened Avi?" "See this" saying so, Avantika thrust a copy of Romeo & Juliet in her face. "What is this?" Nalini asked. "Mom, there is a cool professor in our college, Sameer. I had forgotten my copy of Romeo & Juliet today. So for the class, he lent me his...

In not-so-far future In a land not far away I see a dystopian world where corpses all around lay With nose covered and squinted eyes The reporters try to pry Into the land painted red with blood And no men left to cry All the soap in the world cannot cover up the stench Of the blood on the hands of man who pushed his brother in a trench And for what did this World burn down? For there was no money, No pearls, nor crown It was just a small debate that media spun out of shape The peddlers of conflict, evil, murder and rape. These vultures feed on misery, To Devil, they sold their soul They greet you with brightly made-up faces, And hearts darker than coal Making news and selling them Is profession of these #Presstitutes Help not, but capture on camera The plight of grieving and destitute Secularism, Equality, Development These ideals are just buzzwords They would rather serve you misery Or narrate you an ancien...

I held half-read The Immortals of Meluha in my hand as I was flying over the majestic Himalayas on my flight to Kathmandu, mouth gaping at the beauty bestowed upon the peaks and valleys all painted in 50 shades of Gray, as alluring as the protagonist from the said book itself. Laden with ample dose of snow, the peaks jutted out well above the clouds, soaking in the vitalising rays of sun, totally disinterested with the foggy conditions on the ground. I thought about the mystical abode of Shiva just beyond those mountains and said a silent prayer in my mind to the soft-hearted, dancer incomparable, god of destruction, while I looked on. My thoughts wandered to Tintin in Tibet and a tiny hope simmered in my heart to meet the Bigfoot, although I knew I was going to trek well below the boundaries of the mysterious Yeti. As I stepped out of the airport, the chill of a January evening was instantly replaced by the warmth of the Nepali people. The traditional greeting of putting a marig...