क्यों ये दिल रखता हैं कोई ख्वाइश
जब रिश्तों ने ही की सिर्फ नुमाइश
फिर कोई गैर क्यों सुने तेरी गुजारिश
काश कोई आइना बनाता तस्वीर ऐसी
खुद को थोड़ा ढूंढ लेता मैं इस डगर
अक्स में होते रंग जज्बातों के अगर
दिख जाते फिर एक साथ हिरसात
बंद किले में मेरे सारे एहसासत
साथ लिए जानी पहचानी अजनबियत
Category: feel
In the Dead of the Night
In the dead of the night
I burn yet again
Trampled by the terror
I take to the pyre
To put it to rest
Your deafening silence
So no more like me
Suffer the fate and agony
Lest not my hope
Disappear in this smoke
In the dead of the night
I wish you be human again
On 14 September 2020, a 19-year-old Dalit woman was gang-raped in Hathras district, Uttar Pradesh, India, by four upper caste men. She died two weeks later in a Delhi hospital. After her death, the victim was forcibly cremated by the police without the consent of her family, a claim denied by the police.
Destiny
Ask no kid ever
“Who do you want to
Grow up to be like?”
Since no sapling ever
Wished onto itself
Every leaf and every branch
In the exact shape like
The tallest tree on the pike
मजदूर
पूंछती हैं राहें तुझे ए हमसफर
तेरी मंज़िल कब होगी करीब
जब तूफान को हराकर
चिड़िया को होगी तबस्सुम नसीब
तब सुला देंगे ये बेख्वाब रात
कह गया कोई एक गरीब
पूंछती हैं राहें तुझे ए हमसफर
कब तक लड़ेगा तू बिना सहारे
भूख को कर दफ़न अरसा हो गया
मातम में हम अकेले ही रो लिए
छोड़ रंजिश अभी उम्मीद कायम हैं
इस बरसात ने आँसू जो पोंछ दिए
Tens of thousands of impoverished migrant workers have been forced to leave cities and towns where they had toiled for years building homes and roads after they were abandoned by their employers — casualties of a nationwide lockdown in India to stop the virus from spreading (2020).
The Anomalies
Straight lines
Not so straight shadows
Many thoughts
Not so many actions
Determined choices
Not so deterministic results
Fleeting love
Not so fleeting memories
Simple breaths
Not so simple life
कैदी
जितने ऊंचे
हंसी के फवारे
उससे गहरे
ग़म के साये
डूबते हुए अनेक
दुविधा के भवंडर में
शिकायत कर रही
अधूरी ख्वाहिशें
“कुछ और ब्याज
बाकी है”, भी कह रहे
ताकते हुए अतीत से
अनदेखे घाव मेरे
जैसे कई अजनबी
एक डूबती नाव में
हम सारे कैदी फंसे
इस एक जिस्म में
Petrichor
Some memories that got lost
Some faces that stood faded
Like from the melting frost
Rises a seedling unaided
Doesn’t it all come back again,
With the smell of the first rain?
Petrichor (/ˈpɛtrɪkɔːr/) is the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil.
Dear Yosemite
I left behind a little bit
of me with you
When my sight took a flight
from the crown of your peaks
When the time stood still
on misty meadows tranquil
When the many sunsets
sparkled across the valley
When the wild wind whirled
with it, every waterfall swirled
When I sat down beside
the river in awe of a dome
When the trail I embraced
refused to return home
And so when you I adore,
like the growing morning dew
I leave behind a little bit more
of me with you.
झोका
अंधारलेल्या झोपडीत
नको शोधुस छाया
दिवा आणू कुठून?
फकीर माझी माया
हक्काचा एकच दागिना
तूझी हसरी काया
थोडं पुण्य हिशोबी
असेल लेखणीत राया
आता स्वप्ने देखील
पाहवयास परवडत नाही
बांधली तुझ्या नशिबी
अनेक वादळांची शिदोरी
निज तोवर शांत
देते तुज झोका
हाच फक्त माझा
तुझ्या भाग्यात वाटा
It is a much too familiar scene that is hard to miss. Inside a dark make-shift shack belonging to the migrant laborers there often sits a mother trying to put her infant to sleep on a cloth swing. As the rest of the country celebrates a festival of light, I wondered what a mother, without any worldly belongings, would be saying to her child on one such road side sighting.
English Translation: Search not for a shadow to play with in this shack, my child. This darkness forever lives with us here. I carry no glitter tonight to light up your world. The only treasure I live with is your smiling face. I must have done a good deed or two in my past life to have you with me today. Beyond this, I have nothing else to share with you, not even any dreams for your future. What I do see are many a storms brewing that you need to grow up and face. But until then, rest easy tonight. Until then, my only role in your destiny is for your sound sleep tonight.
लम्हे
कमबख़्त वक़्त के फरिश्ते
बेईमानी पे उतर आते हैं
पलक झपकते ही
कुछ साल गुज़र जाते हैं
कुछ रिश्तों के रंग
कुछ अपने खो जाते हैं
कमबख़्त वक़्त के फरिश्ते
बेईमानी पे उतर आते हैं
पलक झपकते ही
कुछ साल याद आते हैं
कुछ मौजुदगिया तो दरकार हैं
कुछ लम्हे कह जाते हैं
breathe. feel. love. 