mein ek udtaa panchi

It was a week ago, I received a notice to vacate the place that I have been staying in for the last one year. Yup, I’m on the move again, for the sixth time in five years; but, unlike before, it is for the first time that I’m not too upset about it. From Copernicus Marg to Rani Bagh; from Karol Bagh to Malka Ganj, and finally at Rohini, and also staying at my friends’ places for a short span of time in each places at Vasant Kunj, Panchkuian Road, Janakpuri, Hauz Khas, till I could find a place to stay. But now, after spending a good one-year at this recent one at Rohini, partly chased by the lizards in my apartment, I gotta shift again. All this and a lot of traveling, helped me know a lot more about Delhi and about myself too. I, now, know the deepest part of city, excluding some areas..

Today, I see all this from an optimistic angle: “Another place to explore”….

Initially, I did get upset about shifting, but then I remembered seeing Pather Panchali, and there was this line in the film : “Everyone should make a move once in a while. Staying in one place makes you mean.”

The only screwed part of moving out is packing and meeting new people. I’m bad with socialising because I’m more of a reclusive kind, and I can’t interact openly. I just, sort of, get a bit awkward about meeting strangers and new people; call it xenophobia+ claustrophobia. The latter because, I hate to get stuck with gasbags. There’s always a chance, that you land with a never ending conversations with people around at a new place. I get so suffocated by it, and my ears get so tired, because I get myself landed in a conversation that absolutely makes no sense to me. That’s why I hate shifting…
New place; New people; and a lot of non-stop talk and inquiries…

I’m almost done with my writing, yet, I can see, it has changed so tremendously. It’s getting sicker day by day. It’s like, as if my hands are wrapped with something tht’s itchy and irritating, and I’m incapable to write. It’s like I’m losing out to myself and unable to communicate with what I want, in spite lot of things swimming in my head.

The water is filled to its brim, but it’s not flowing out….i feel so much more convenient writing poetry than writing journals, and I tried to, but couldn’t. My patience has gone haywire, and while I was reading “Age of Kali” by William Dalrymple, I just felt tempted to write about my section of traveling within the city. No doubt, the author has done a good job on this one. He knows so much. I quiet like the book too.

Anyhow, wish me luck with a new place. I hope to find it soon on a short notice. Barely got 10 days to find one.

The reason for the title is because of this song I was listening to, which is Bhor by Indian Ocean. It is a song about a bird’s flight, a Sufi’s journey. I know, the song is not wholly apt for my moving around. But it’s not just moving around for me; it has also become a part of journey that has helped me become morally stronger and more patient, without much support.

Bhor bhor bhor bhai,
Ek udta panchi…

Ja baitha ik daal,
Ja baitha ik daal.
Ja baitha ik daal,
Ja baitha ik daal

Bhor bhor bhor bhai,
Ek udta panchi…