india

Traffic Signal

rehmanjafar Life, Travel, Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , ,

I was driving home the other evening after work. Slumped in my seat with some random radio channel on I stopped at a traffic signal.

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Ahead of me was this Maruti WagonR, a very famous Indian hatchback.  My initial reaction was wow someone finally stopped at the signal. But in a few seconds, I could see two kids playing in the car. Signal turned green and the cars moved, I was still behind this WagonR, both kids got up and peeped from the rear windshield and started shooting at me with imaginary guns. I did the same and they laughed and ducked.

Good nice small game I would play with my friends and cousins as well as a kid. Then I took over and drove home remembering how life changed. How I am doing things I never imagined to do. I am an ordinary Indian living a normal life and maybe that’s what’s right (or not?).

 

 

Neverending metro ride

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The constantly moving pixelated text bothered me more than ever. The train kept passing stations, wheels rolling on the familiar tracks.
There were all sorts of warnings and instructions on the screen telling you to not carry your bag on the back to not crossing the yellow line. The text would keep flowing from right to left with very few paying attention to it. A pair of girls sat on the For Ladies Only busy with their phones, one scrolling and switching between various music apps. No wonder we have so many choices today. The other one would look over and see if she has arrived at the station she would want to get down at.

The door opens and a guy walks in and with him comes this cigarette smell. He has smoked recently and the smell of cigarette is all over his clothes. The stench bothered me a bit because it makes me sneeze. Coming back to my topic, a lot of us are rushing to work and in these short moments we are trying to catch and live life. A few songs, an episode, and even a book at times. This puts me in a different mood and I wish that the metro ride continues and it mostly does in a way.  Doesn’t it?

Uncle and his radio

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Mr. Abbas runs a ittar (attar) shop and must be over the age of 70. His little shop is on this slope that takes you to a temple. Very close to public parking, the shop would have sunlight during noon. A small entry in to the shop will reveal a bench where at max 3 people can sit.

Mr. Abbas is passionate about perfumes we call Ittar or Attar. He says his salaam and ask what would you like to see or buy. I replied some ittar and if you would have Oodh. Now, oodh is a famous ittar amongst those who use or have been using ittar for sometime. On asking for it, his eyes lit up and says I’ll keep that for the last.

He quickly went and gathered a few bottles and started telling us which was what smell. He slowly progressed towards stronger smells and finally to oodh. He said, “I don’t show oodh to a lot of people, because a lot of them don’t understand /appreciate the smell”.

There was a radio (see the photo) and I asked about it. He tells me it was very old and that he went for Haj this time. He went on and told me it was a great trip and he didn’t feel like coming back.

We soon purchased our bottles of perfumes and said our goodbyes. Mr. Abbas sounded genuine and very happy with his shop. A man who likes his fragrances and those who buy them.

I’d very much like to meet him someday again. Oh! Did I tell you that I bought a bottle of Oodh for my abba too? I think he’ll like it.

Until next time.

-J

Banana Guy

rehmanjafar Blog, Life , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There is a guy who has a suitcase and a bunch of bananas in a plastic poly bag. I reckon he is traveling. My best guess would be he is going home for Raksha Bandhan, a Indian festival where sisters tie Rakhi (a thread) on their brother’s wrists. The brother in return promises to protect her.

This whole thing is a big reason for people to travel home and families to come together. Anyway, the reason I started by telling you about him was bananas and the very fact that they were still raw. It bothered me a bit.

There are others in the metro, some are engrossed in their phones like me while others are sleeping. Life can indeed be tiring in a city like Delhi. The metro keeps going through the tunnel, doors open and people come in and go out but what remains constant is the fight for the seats.

I am quite comfortable because I was able to get a seat, so I’ll try and enjoy it because my station is hardly 10 minutes away. Small pleasures of life.

—–

I’m sorry for not replying to a few emails that were sent to me.I’ll reply to them once I’m home.

-J

Millenium City

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I found myself in the rapid metro of the Millenium City aka Gurgaon now known as Gurugram. It was 8:30 pm and the metro went through Golf Course Road. It is famous for hosting offices of some of the largest companies like Zomato, KIA, Amex and so on.

Now the beauty about it at night is that you see people working in the offices, sitting with their backs straight in the meeting rooms and acting to be attentive. (while someone is scribbling at the whiteboard). Some are on their desks staring at the bright white light and scrolling endlessly. Some floors are empty yet the lights are on while some are dark and the only source of light is the white light.

I look at my reflection and realize I was one of those individuals working on a similar piece of machine a while ago. The metro continued and we passed the Golf Course Road finally arriving at our destination station Sikanderpur. Now, if you have been to Sikanderpur, you’ll know how people like me fight for a seat or for a spot so we can either chat, talk or catch up on movies/TV series.
Sikanderpur metro either takes you to Delhi or to Gurgaon but life continues. People endlessly board the metro and get to work every day to earn what they can and live what they dream.

I will do the same this coming Monday.

The jump

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Flapping

A duck jumps into the Naini Lake, Nainital

Cat Among The Pigeons

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You randomly decide to catch up with a friend at a bookstore which has a cafe that is known for chai. Well, no suspense there it is called Cha Bar and the bookstore goes by the name ‘Oxford Bookstore’. This is in Connaught Place of New Delhi, India.

So, I was in the metro today with a book that I bought from the above-talked bookstore. Yes, you go to a bookstore and you have to have to buy a book. The reason I bought this was because I remember reading ‘Cat Among The Pigeons by Agatha Christie’ back in 2007 when I was in a school.

The weather was perfect, the temperature showing 16 °C, the metro coming out of the tunnel and sun shining on your back and an empty metro which means you get to sit and read in silence.  That is when I clicked this photograph.

Tell me what you guys are reading these days? And how’s the weather at your end?

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Cigarette aur chai

rehmanjafar hindi, poetry, short poetry, Short Writings, Uncategorized, Urdu Poetry , , , , , , , ,

Un sardiyon ki raaton main
Mere haath mai ek cigarette thi
Aur tumhare haath mai chai ka cup

Hum dono ek thele par baithe
Andheri sunsaan raat mai
Baate kar rahe the

Kohre ke saath
Hamare muh se dhuan nikal raha tha
Us hisaab se toh
Cigarette tum bhi pee rahi thi

Maine haskar yeh baat tumse kahi
Toh tumhe thoda sa bura laga

Mujhe ilm tha is baat ka
Ki tumhe cigratte pasand nahi thi

Ab woh waqt aa chuka tha
Jab tumhari chai khatam hone ko thi
Aur meri cigarette ke bhi
Kuch aakhri kash bache the

Fhir main utha
Aur tum uthi
Aur dono apni raah chal diye

Snapseed

Snapseed (1)

Metro Ride #521

rehmanjafar Life, short story, story, Travel, Travelling , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I got into the metro and the guy ahead of me looks at his reflection and dances. Maybe that’s what late nights do to you, they allow you to be more expressive. Anyway, I get myself a seat and the gate of the metro stays open so that more people can board it, it reminds of those even-odd days in Delhi when bus number 507 that I usually took would stop until they got a good number of passengers on board.

I sit on the seat with an empty mind and stare at my phone. After a few stations, a gentleman comes and sits on the empty seat on my right. He has his headphones on and is listening to Ae Kaash Ke Hum. I used to love that song once but then I listened to it so much that I started disliking it, does it ever happen to you?

So, the metro continues to find its way on those zig-zag tracks until it enters the dark underground tunnel only to move like a snake through its burrow. After two stations, I’ll have to get down and find my way home.

Doors will open, people will board and deboard the metro until this moving box gets to its destination.

Continue reading →

Tea Cup- Short story (hindi)

rehmanjafar fiction, hindi, short story, story, Uncategorized , , , , , , ,

I came to the blog with the determination to write something and then I checked my last post. Guess what, it was on 20th of August, exactly a month ago. In that very post, I had mentioned about writing more frequently which I failed to do. A lot of reasons but let’s not get into that.

I am sharing something I recently wrote, it is in Hindi and is in raw form (not edited). So go ahead, read it and let me know what you think. (Source for photo)

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Aadha piya hua chai ka woh cup, mez par rakha tha, chai toh behraal thandi ho chuki thi lekin uska abhi tak koi pata nahi tha. Neeche se achanak kisine awaz lagai thi toh woh daudta hua chala gaya tha. Mujhe lagaa koi khaas azeez aaya hoga aur yahi sochte sochte mujhe kaafi waqt ho gaya lekin koi nahi aaya. Mann mai khayal sa aaya ki uth kar chala jaata hun lekin fhir yaad aaya ki ghar khali tha aur is tarah ghar khula chod jaana theek nahi hoga toh main wapis baith gaya.

Mann behlane ke liye kuch toh karna tha toh waha padhe akhbar ko lekar maine saalo baad khabre padhna shru kiya aur keval istehaar dekh kar woh bhi mez par patak diya. Akhbar se adhi chai ka cup gir gaya aur poori mez par chai fhail gayi. Maine socha lo, yahi baaki tha and yahi soch kar main safai main lag gaya. Itni hi der main ek mohtarma zeene se upar aagayi aur boli Chacha jaan ghar hai kya, maine bola nahi woh nahi hai aap batae kya kaam. Woh thodi der ruki aur fhir boli, aap hai kaun, pehle toh yaha nahi dekha. Chacha jaan ne yeh ghar bech toh nahi diya?
Jispar maine jaldi se kaha arre nahi chacha jaan gaye hue hai bahar main unke bete ka dost hun. Paan chabati hui woh mud kar wapis zeene se utar gayi. Utarte utarte boli ki unse kehdena ki Sakeena ayi thi. Maine zehen main dobara naam dohraha jisse ki main bhool na jaun.

Mujhe baithe hue kuch adha ghanta hua hoga aur ab mere intezaar ki intehaan aage badh chuki thi. Mujhe apne dost par behisaab gussa aa raha tha par main yeh bhi soch raha tha ki kuch galat na hua ho. Thodi der main andar ek kamre main rakhe telephone ki ghanti baji toh main uthane ke lye gaya. Phone uthaya toh……..