थोड़ा और

इस इत्तेफ़ाक़ को थोड़ा और परख लेते

आरज़ू में ज़िंदगी बिताई 

थोड़ा और ठहर लेते 

कुछ इस परवाने का भी हाल समझ लेते

Fragile Glue

hung their baggage,
upon a branched high tree,
on the corner road,
in a far away city.
travel light now.

scenes from a distant past
and the dreams of a distant future
both,
called upon to bide some time,
ironically,
'twas running all the time.

the longings having turned
into an uprooted sense of belonging
the heart doesn't, skip a beat,
now, when their eyes meet

as they meet and depart,
carrying with them,
chunks of their broken hearts
carefully glued, by a thing, maybe, two
look at them;
poor guys used a fragile glue.

Haunted

Stream of incessant thoughts, blissful whispers, haunt me
Its early morning, too early a morning, might i add, a haunted one too
Images flash, those from an unsettling era, when its way past midnight
All the ironic abstractions that language could not articulate
found expression in my achingly active brain
Vivid, quite vivid, certainly so
A tempestuous adulthood, unfinished business, a rather cold man
Or just another empty sleepless night?

Climbing out and gasping for breath,
the heart pleads the brain to cease thinking
An apologetic cry for a little mercy, perhaps
But a carnage was too likely on the cards. The odds, you see

of a helpless creature, winning a battle in a tenebrous fight
I am an insect, without the brain, maybe not even that
Outwitted, and hideously so, when its way past midnight

एक गुज़ारिश

बादलों ने उस रात एक साज़िश की
मिट्टी के घरों पे बस बारिश हुई
सर्द हवाओं ने फिर खिलवाड़ किया
बरसात में आसुंओं का था नामों-निशाँ कहाँ
बेबस कांपती निगाहों ने एक गुज़ारिश की

अगले जीवन में ऐसा धोखा न हो
मेहनत से परहेज़ नहीं,
संघर्ष से गिला नहीं
पर ज़िन्दगी 'जीने' का एक मौका तो हो

-

The girl with a golden smile

across the woods, against the breeze
the scent of something beautiful, rushed through my mind
if only i could tell the whistling breeze
it had just been with the girl with golden eyes

she was the fragrance that swept
the feather of joy, the freshness of  dew
if only the poor ignorant roses knew
the world had other beautiful, more beautiful things too

her smile could could have dwarfed
the morning sunshine, the evening rain, the stars shining bright
if only i could tell the summer night
the girl with golden eyes, had walked by my side

more vibrant than a musical note

she was the song, i had always wished i would write

if only the oceans, the fountains knew

they would have merrily drowned in her eyes

strands of hair, glazed her lovely face
she was the poem hath the poets forever craved
she was much more than my verse could fit
she was spring, she was autumn, flutter of life unseen

Queen of Hearts

Not long ago, in the island of destiny, along shores of life, bright castles in sight

In the play of inane silence, emerged in red, to the Knight's delight - the Queen of hearts.

Hath not the knights and noblemen glanced before, on shadows of such beauty still

And the Knight beguiled the epiphany of romance, an unseen, unarmed, unambiguous romance

Rising, he hoped, beyond illusions, delusions, beyond dunes and mirages of the desert behind

Imagined, the knight, an augmented reality, but the Queen was a cryptic, enchanting engima, vanished that night

'Knight ! Beware!!, the Queen is just passing by.' But the magic, alas ! there was no love of tomorrow

And, on the altar of wishes, tonight, the Knight was seen, clasping hands, smiling under city lights.

A distant sore

a crime was committed in your face, you think so and believe
you might be right, the treachery too harsh, a stinging nettle perhaps, 
might seem, could be, i didn't see, i wouldn't have a clue,
i don't know one, lest both sides of the tale. 
You retaliate in your self righteous ways, human, human, so human indeed
mild subtle  retribution could've been too harsh,
the terrible morbidity in retaliation, the aura of gloom,
would you care to give the accused, little forgiveness perhaps ?
Another chance to reflect, restrain the demon and acknowledge the fact
and let hate not control every soul, every heart.
for the true nature of crime, however dark, is human, human, a human deed 
we are all humans capable of sinking to depths, committing misdeeds 
should repentance not be given a chance, vengeance not repressed ? 
the lords creation not easily be denounced, soul cleansing a prospect ? 


the robbery, the shooting, the fleeing, the prison, the saving, the crying, the living, the dying
we are all pathetically, human, human, ambit, human indeed 

Up-stream, ex-dream

I don't wish to be here any longer
I have loved and lived here too long
I await the frail goodbye,
To casually bid farewell humming another song


Traipse a bit more ? i wouldn't
This is  up-stream, ex-dream ?
I don't know what. A fading screen ?
A lackadaisical streak ?


loved this place, loved this life
missed so much, guess i missed much too
I have nothing much to do, nothing much to say
Let it be, dont people always part ways ?


As i take the last few walks, i stare at every soul and every tree
Some give sidelong glances and pretend to not see
I would still wave and smile and bid good bye.
See you again, or maybe not ?, on the other side.


I wrote letters to my young sweethearts, on paper napkins, as I
Drank rum to rock and gazed in whiskey bars
To the tunes, the grooves of jazz and blues
So many a times, that I now know a song or two.


Like lighting the last cigarette, on the lonely drive
to the concert stage in the middle of night.
How badly you want for it to burn, a little longer, stay
Only to take it for the stroll, on the grass, to the stage, from the car


I would have wanted to stay, day after day

Or atleast for a day, another hour, few minutes, a glimpse, to quench this hopeless heart
Alas ! Funny, hopeless romantic, Sigh. Deep sigh !.
I don't wish to be here any longer.

I have loved and lived here too long. 

I await the frail goodbye, each day, each day when i walk back with dreamy eyes.

Tired

In our small, tired world, there's too little space for anything. And then we cram in terrorism, recession, traffic jams, politicians, elections, pink slips, pink chaddis, accidents, climate change, crop failure, ... (courtsey: Taaq)

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One small glimpse, one beautiful smile , is all we need

In our tired tired world

Or so they said, and i had believed..

We talk fancy shit, think brutally fanciful, agony is pleasure, shallow fun

We feed on misery, on life, like parasites, undying quest for desolation?

Does everything have to be perfect? cliched rhetoric?

moving in spiral circles of ubiquitous despair,

Is that living? or just hanging there, to be strangled and suffocated

by the life you had been feeding on, like parasites

We are animals, retarded animals we are. On second thoughts arnt we?

dissecting, analysing retards

Wheres the fun? wheres the beauty? wheres life.?

in our tired tired world..

One small glimpse

should be good enough, to wipe all misery, all dirt, all hurt.

One beautiful smile, to erase the past, to vanquish the present, to surrender.

simple enough ? or so i thought..

But then, we brutally murdered simplicity, didnt we? butchered it long time ago

such dissecting, analysing retards we are.

Retarded arrogant butchers. On second thoughts, arent we?

in our tired tired world

Ran short of complications? needed more pain, more misery, more retardedness?

in our tired tired world

A tired man, i have become, they say

in my own small tired tired world.

Too tired waiting for that small glimpse, for that smile

that was to vanquish the present, erase the past. Instead it slapped

why? i used to wonder. But then 'used to', I said

No more. Tired souls dont think, not the slightest hint of it.

I tried, didnt I ? I did. I did and failed, not once but twice and thrice

seems like a zillion times, each miserable

a tired man, I look, they say, or so I heard

tired

i am

When dragons cried

your memory

comes in the way of my memory

the hearts divulge, it is

their subtle art of treachery

the last stubborn leaf

on a windy autumn night

simply wouldn't let go

how many seasons more

will it cling

through glimmer moonlit skies.

invisible splash of shimmering white

on the blackened canvas

rendered across a starless sky

i lived the day , when dragons cried

a flutter of emotions , the missing heartbeat

been ages last i watched you sleep

couldn't help but smile

that passerby

was the stubborn love that shy

touch didn't last one kiss

blink of an eye, ceased to exist

the frequent hoist

on a sodden roof so slippery

your memory comes in the way of my memory

the hearts divulge, it is

their subtle art of treachery.

A young monk in red.

Wanted to share this beautiful poem written by Shubham.

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A young monk in red,

burns on the street...

beside your house.

You watch in silent amusement..

as his prayer wheel spins and spins,

still sending out prayers,

of peace and love...

Love is all he asked for

peace is all he lived for

truth is all he persued,

right from childhood...

even before he'd known what it meant..

his brother too lies on the street..

in a pool of blood

from the bullet's wound..

(he'd not seen a gun so he hadn't feared it).

They had taken away his home..

they had killed all his family

they'd even chased away his God..

he had lived beside you,

and he had loved you

although you never knew..!

and how could you..?

you were too busy in your daily problems..

which never actually were,

so you hadn't seen their pain,

like you do not see the burning neighbourhood...

But you will...soon,

'coz he lived beside you, remember..?

and the flames he burns in, will touch you..

eventually..

when no one will be left to run to.

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No Fancy Name

Ridiculous . You ignore the first time , laugh it the second , third time is a pain , frustrated by the fourth ,angered by the fifth , retaliating the sixth time .
Foolishness and cowardice disguised . Horrific self righteousness. Shameless pretence. The sickening madness. The sadistic acceptance. Excruciating anger and the deafening silence. Humiliating the soul , agonizingly embayed in the darkest corners. Existence so hollow.

Pray i don't shout, because if i do , you will shudder with intense disgust.
Futile is the explanation , for the meaning shall always elude you.
Pray i don't stare into your eyes , then, there will be nothing left to say, no one left to blame.

Beautiful things destroyed. In so subtle a manner . Futile seems the purpose . Futile .
Times killed . Heartlessly . Killing you , killing me , killing all we had.

Something in my flesh , to turn this day in a hideous night. Something to relieve me of the sickening madness. For then i wont care if you live or die. For then , i shall see again, the beauty in a fallen leaf , a deserted road , a hopeless life and a dead soul.

defunct brain, inflated vein

surrounded by visions, and visions surrounding
he reminisced the toast of an unalterable sight
'its time to let go, its time to let go'..those screaming pillars
little the fools knew, long ago had he set himself free
what tragic ignorance, these lifeless walls
all the while he ran and laughed and cried and sang

delirious arachnids grazed the skin
hours secluded, days wrecked in his chimerical room
time deflated. gushing inflated veins
his tranquil , his throne, why invade ? his guilt, parade ?

welcome to the wasteful reckless extravagance
of hopeless lives and mocking lies
invidious little maggots watched the show
'complete fiasco or fatuous or pretence', they mumbled
'keep musculading , you maggots, why dont you bite and go'

he had no conundrums,but maggots wouldnt leave
a ribald repartee was to be indeed ?
wambling and running and laughing and singing
he begged for some peace, let silence be bestowed
last glimpse of sanity, processed by a defunct brain
'dont pity me , you losers, your hideous face..dont you conceal,
go look in your eyes, go wash your feet'

Cold December

There are times when you see and feel things that are otherwise lost - the never ending pursuits of life. These stark realities hit you in the face, leave you with a feeling of helplessness and guilt, a tinge of sadness.

----------
i feel pain
when i see that fading kid on the chilly road
oblivious to the beauties around
what has he found ?
acquiescing to fate
succumbing to the ways of 'his' master
beholding the quench for a life
the prolonged strife for survival
the brutal denial of life,being his way of life

i feel cold
when i see that grey old lady
crouching beside the garbage can
struggling to figure where life betrayed
if only 'her' master had different plans
doubting any purpose for existence
she fights still, to breathe , to live

i feel sad
when i see that sick man wrapped in helplessness
for whom the farthest glimpse of horizon is - tomorrow
the starry nights mean nothing to him
the wind only makes his heart shiver and sink.
a loaf of bread , a piece of blanket
means love to him, means life to him

i feel so sorry for you
when you ask
what's beautiful about today ?
what's there to live for tomorrow ?
i feel deep blue
as i walk through this cold december night..
things hit me in the face , they hit me hard ...
as i walk through this cold december night ....

(dec '07)

haze

don't look back down the road
we wont be there
its empty
for few dread to tread on the untreaded

infatuated to the brinks of horizon
and reasoning with the intoxicating haze
me and my guys will be playing all night

beholding sweet fragrance
of the days that've slipped by
dreaming to dive in the vastness of zero
smashed by the traits of mortals surrounding
paralyse us..but we are not stopping tonight
me and my guys will be playing all night

(oct '07)

Something Strange

(I wrote this when i was a kid)

i find it hard to breathe an all efforts in vain
smell there's something wrong
as my strings shriek in pain
though the sun is red and the sky is blue
..birds dance through ..the morning dew
the mystic way..nature work
there is not much left to anticipate
but there is something strange..i wish i knew...

i feel the morning breeze ,cut through my skin
swiftly blowing away but its not that real
there is something strange.. i ought to find..
the difference between.. two outlooks of mind

through the tainted glass, ..i see the summer rain
though it falls down straight ,
for sure its not the same
i watch the sun go down, on the rock as i lay
but it scorches me, at the end of the day,
i can nothing do, as i lay in dismay..
there is something strange
..i wish i knew..