There is a joy in learning something totally new. I am talking of a language again. For years I had been wishing and attempting, in vain to learn the magical, mystical language of Urdu. Finally when I located a teacher, I requested him to teach me. At that time all that he said was Insha Allah. That is one of the most beautiful expressions I have heard. Insha Allah. He did not start teaching me right away. I met him again, gave him my number and reminded him. He smiled and said God willing, soon. It was only after nearly a year of running into him and reminding him time and again that I am serious about learning the language that he was convinced and one beautiful, lovely day a couple of months ago, my relationship with Urdu began.
I was not taught the way we learnt languages in Kindergarten - 'A' 'Aaah'..... But with simple phrases instead. I had to read that and started learning the alphabets and practicing the script on the go. There is a certain surreal feeling, if I may call it that, when I practice the script. And once I finish the homework that I am assigned, looking at what I have written gives me a sense of peace actually. I am wondering why. Usually it so happens that I practice only after the sun has risen high in the sky - but on the side of the earth that is miles away from mine. Time seems to melt away as I curl my fingers, move the pen this way and that trying to imbibe and replicate the art that of the Urdu Script.
I remember the time when I was singing a song for Rahman Sir. I guess it was during the recording of Tere Bina that I saw Gulzar Saab penning down the lyrics of the song. In Urdu. Even when Javed Saab wrote his poetry, it was in Urdu. When I saw the writing unfold from their hands it looked like an ethereal painting. I wished to all the Gods then and longed to be able to read and write the language myself. It was quite a while before my wish was fulfilled.
And now I'm counting my blessings and I revere the book that I hold in my hands.
Talking of beauty.
Have you been able to see the sun rays filtering through the trees in the morning? On my way to the Aahaa FM station, a lot of times I see the games sunlight plays, the tapestry it paints, each one different, each spectacular. On the roads I wind through, from a distance of about 30 metres, maybe a week or so ago, around the time the hands on the clock are on their own rush to make it to 7 o clock, I saw the sunlight flow through the trees tops, meander its way through branches, turn around leaves and finally make its landing on a tarred road, with leaves on them, which themselves had now assumed the colour of that very sunlight which they had probably waved to, smiled to on their greener days. From the distance that I was, it felt as though there was a time lag and nothing else seemed to exist but me and that light. It was like some golden beam, a pathway to peace perhaps, to ... I don't know. What would it be like to close your eyes and just be imagine that you are light? What would it be like to feel as heavy or as beautiful as light? Shimmery, Golden, like creamy silk? Or maybe all these adjectives are just not good enough. That morning it was almost like epiphany. I wished that beam were a pathway to a world that I wish to explore but know not what to expect. A world of tranquility. Or what would it be like to walk on water shimmering like a thousand diamonds and find a huge sun beam there.. and as soon as you place the tip of your big toe on it, you are drawn into .. Well I am looking for a word here .. Liquid Gold? To feel as light as a feather. Or maybe even lighter if that is possible?
There is a search. For that elusive something that I have been unable to name. Unable to place. Unable to even search for. For I don't seem to know that that 'it' is about. If there is one thing I would ask sometimes, is deliverance from the constant seeking. And I guess that would be the end of my road. Probably a key to? The number of questions grow. The number of answers that I have is a big figure. 0. Strange ain't it. That which seems to give all the 1s and 2s of the world infinite power, seems pretty powerless as singular entity. Or is it?
What a post this is. Starting from Urdu and ending with a number.
The call from the unknown, or rather, ironically, the call that is unheard seems the loudest. The noisiest. Insha Allah I will have the answers. How soon is upto the cosmos to decide