Thursday, July 30, 2009


What may happen when a lost lover remembers his love. A feeble try to paint a little picture of the scene.

सर भारी हो झूल रहा था,
दिमाग भी घूम रहा था,
कभी इधर-कभी उधर,
उसमे खो कर झूम रहा था
मैंने ऐसा क्या कर दिया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था

लाल आँखें बरस रही थीं,
उसे देखने को तरस रही थीं,
जलने लगीं, सो बंद कर लीं,
पाँच साल से जिसकी दरस नही थी।
जाने ऐसा क्या हो गया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था।

उठने की कोशिश की थी मैंने,
संभलने की कोशिश की थी मैंने,
न उठ सका, न संभल सका,
सहारा लेने की कोशिश की थी मैंने।
मैं, ऐसा कैसे हो गया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था।

स्वप्न लोक की लहरों को सहता रहा,
उसे देख आन्हे भरता रहा,
निगल गई धरती, खा गया समंदर उसे,
उसे मरता देख, मैं मरता रहा।
आज अकेला क्यूँ हो गया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था।

हाँ, अब याद आया,
मैं अपना घर छोड़ आया,
इस मधुशाला को याद करता,
अपने गम वहीं छोड़ आया।
यों मैं मुस्करा क्यूँ गया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था।

वो हिरनी जैसी घूम रही थी,
खिलखिला कर मुझको चूम रही थी,
नीच जात का कहकर मुझसे अलग किया,
उसे जलाकर ऊँची जात झूम रही थी।
जिंदगी पर हंस क्यूँ गया,
बस सोचा ही तो था।

यही तो सोचा था की वो मेरे साथ है,
यही तो सोचा था मेरे माथे पर उसका हाथ है,
बीमार पड़ा मैं कराह रहा,
दवा न खोजी, अब शराब ही जगन्नाथ है।
क्यूँ सबको अलविदा कह गया,
बस, सोचा ही तो था।

Saturday, July 25, 2009

The Arrow Striker

Off to the classes I was,
Riding fast, pedalling faster.
The destination was far and I was late,
Everything rested on my attendance’s fate.

70% was the minimum required,
I lurked around 69.
My stomach churned & grunted & groaned,
If late, to year-back I would be proned.

But fate wouldn’t be good to me,
The chain broke, the pedal slipped.
I fell head-on onto the road,
My tumbling body switching to accident mode.

The bag was spilled, its contents spread,
My neck was hurt, I thought it broke.
And all the hopes of passing faded,
And then fate turned, in my favour it weighted.

She came to my rescue,
Picking up my stuff.
She brought them to me,
But my eyes never let it be.

The wind blew mildly, bruising her skin,
Her clothes ruffled, her hair waved.
The pink of her cheeks grew pinker,
I confess, that’s what made me a thinker.

The white suit looked just fine,
No, awesome.
Two bangles in each wrist,
The light blue eyes seemed like mist.

She gave her hand to help me up,
I gazed.
She smiled and spoke, “Get up,”
Her voice was sweet, like 4 sugar cubes in a single tea-cup.

I grabbed her hand,
It was the only chance I thought.
I don’t know how I got up,
For her skin was softer than the cutest pup.

The touch was electrifying,
The sensation was amazing.
She handed me the bag and the books,
I didn’t even say a thank you, dumbed by her looks.

She turned and whisked away,
Never turning back.
I hoped she would, at least
once let me have again that feast.

I realised then that I was late,
And prayed to God.
God heard me, the teacher was kind,
Admitting me late, he didn’t mind.

I wasn’t in my senses anymore,
She was lovely.
She was everything I ever dreamed,
Beautiful, adorable and soft as if creamed.

Don’t know if I’ll see her again,
Don’t know if ever?
What I know is it’s amazing,
When I can’t feel a thing.

Just a small, sweet bite,
A little tinge.
When the arrow strikes from far above,
The heart beats faster and you know it’s love.

Monday, July 20, 2009

A Hopeful Despair

He rose slowly & steadily, careful enough not to wake her up. She stirred mildly and turned over, her hair falling on her shoulders in ripples. He sighed as he looked at her glowing face. She was smiling. He got up a little and then he heard his favorite music, the chirping of birds. They flew across him, away from their homes in search of food for their loved ones. He looked at them with a lovingness in his eyes, wanting to fly along with them but he knew he had more important things to do.

She was starting to feel his absence, but she didn't open her eyes. It happened everyday, it had to. How beautiful the last night had been, cool, calm and serene. She didn't want him to go for she longed for him, but she knew it was the longing that made their love so special, so strong. She lazily opened her eyes.

There were no clouds in the sky, the month was June. The day was to be sunny and hot. The wait was to be long and patient.

He climbed, all orange and red. The sea was shimmering with the morning light like a million diamonds rolling on a black floor. He climbed further, the orange fading a little, giving him a tinge of yellow. The number of people bathing on the ghats increased. Ladies and sadhus took a dip in the Ganges and then with cupped hands offered water to the rising sun, to Him.

She was fully awake now. He had gone for his work and here she was, waiting for him to come down again. Although he was no more with her, she could still feel him, his warmth. She saw him rise in the sky, all yellow now, shining brightly and she felt herself burning, with his heat, burning with the desire to have him again in her arms. And then, the stampede began.

People scurried, thousands, millions, billions of them, running around from place to place, for the sake of their work, for the sake of their loved ones. Some simply walked on her, some used automobiles. Some sat in their plush offices, some dug holes in her, taking the earth out and laying the foundation for the high-rises. He, too, was at his maximum now, blazing, raining fire. It was his work. She burned, and he hated it. But he couldn't do anything. He never mixed his professional life with his personal. I will make it up to her tonight. She understood, waiting.

The time had come, he was coming to her. She loved him like this, orange and red. He looked adoring. He came down slowly, making every passing second a million years. She knew it would be a great night. It always was.

He went down on her, going over the mountains and down the valleys. She loved it. She loved every bit of it. She closed her eyes, enjoying it. Night fell. She wanted to cry in exhilaration, the waves hit the shore.

I never loved him more, she thought and smiled. She thought it every night. They slept in each other's arms, waiting for another day full of the longings and hope, and another night full of its products.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Not because you suffered, but because you were there,

when times were hard,

Not because you lied, but because you surprised,

when times were jovial,

Not because you hurt, but because you made me realise,

when I was wrong,

Not because you killed, but because you cared for me,

when times were dangerous,

Not because you left, but because you came back,

when I needed you,

Not because you hated, but because you loved me,

Do I, love you.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

No Matter

No matter how far,
I know you are always there,
For me, for our love.

No matter how crowded,
You always stand, calling out in an unspoken voice,
For me, for our love.

No matter how painful,
You never cry, but sometimes you do,
For me, for our love.

No matter how weak,
Communicate you do,
For me, for our love.

No matter how high,
You always climb the ropes of my expectations,
For me, for our love.

No matter how cold
I lie, you always return the same warm smile,
For me, for our love.

No matter how unreasonable
I become, you fulfil my desires,
For me, for our love.


No matter how hard,
I try and try again,
I find you gone,
Never to return,
Still I try,
For you, for our love.

No matter how vile,
I feel of myself,
Unable to live anymore,
But I continue doing so,
For you, for our love.

No matter how little,
I expect forgiveness,
For I was wrong,
I wish I had been right,
At least for once,
For you, for our love.

Now, there's just one thing I dread,
When I die,
I don't find you,
Standing the same way,
Waiting for me,
For us, for our love.


इस अल्हड़ सूखे ने सारी आशाएं डुबो दी थी ,
मन था निराश , थी उसे तलाश ,
फिर बारिश की कुछ बूंदों ने नन्ही कलियों को खिला दिया ,
उसकी मदमस्त हवाओं ने मेरा रोम -रोम हिला दिया ,
जी हो उठा झूमने का , जो ठंडी बयार चल पड़ी ,
पर तभी वो बारिश, वो अद्भुत बारिश लौट पड़ी,
मन हो गया विचलित , रही न खुद की सुध ,
अब तो बस यह पागल है , हर वक़्त खोया रहता है .

उस बारिश ने उम्मीदों को नया आयाम दिया ,
उस सूखे पर भी अपना छोटा -सा अस्तित्व कायम किया ,
वे सोयी कलियाँ खिल उठी , और वे खिली रहेंगी ,
अभी अभी अश्रुपूरित नेत्रों से उसे विदा किया था ,
पर अगली बारिश होने की राह तकती रहेंगी .

यह आशा भी अजीब है , जीने को मजबूर करती है ,
पर साथ ही जिंदगी के नए मायने समझाती है ,
हर वक़्त मन में एक उमंग जगाती है ,
एहसास कराती है की फिर से बारिश होगी .
हर बार पतंग की डोर कटती है ,
पर उसी डोर पर नयी पतंगे उड़ती हैं .

यही है जीने का सार ,की मानो न कभी भी हार .

आज नहीं तो कल , यह सुखा भी मुरझायेगा ,
जब फिर से बारिश होगी .....
बारिश ...बारिश ...बारिश .

Picture credits: