The pursuit of happiness is a chase for a lifetime..
May 23, 2014
Wo kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai...!
Wo kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai
Wo milke tujhse sham ko ghar lautna
Wo raston ko yun dekhna, ki jaise mujhe muskura
kar ched rahe hon
Wo raste wo safar mujhe bada yaad aata hai. Wo kal
mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
Wo karvat tutne par tera khayal aana, wo uth kar
tehlte hue tujhe sochna,
fir beith ke sirhane par tera naam likhna, jaise
tu mere saath ho
Wo tooti needen wo raatein mujhe bada yaad aata
hai. Wo kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
Wo palat ke aaine ko dekhna, wo phele kaajal ko theek
karna
Aur hawa se bikhre baalon ko sambhal ke, tere aane
ki rah dekhna
Wo intzaar wo khumaar mujhe bada yaad aata hai. Wo
kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
jaise bas baki sab be-mayene ho, wo mubahisa aur
wo sawal mere,
Wo junoon wo sukoon mujhe
bada yaad aata hai. Wo kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
Nishan the ab bhi baki kuch. Kismat na bana sakne
wale…bas nishan.
Lekin wo guzra pal mujhe bada yaad aata hai. Wo kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
Wo
kal mujhe bada yaad aata hai.
[Be-mayne - Meaningless, Mubahisa - Points, Discussion]
May 9, 2014
It’s not a wound, no, it’s not! It does not pain anymore;
neither do the nerves ache…Nerves that run beneath that skin. The skin has
creased somewhat from there, yeah. And then, thinking of it does not give
tears, it gives a smile. No, it’s not a wound…Anymore
It has been some time now, a few years… sometimes it weeps,
though… when it rains, or may be seeing the sun set…perhaps. It has no words left
to be said to anyone, it pretends to be content.
Such pretentiousness, that lies so loudly!
But wounds are so open, self exhibiting. So…no it’s
not a wound.
It doesn’t like the touch of a
flower, now. And the dew drop stays there for a while before slipping. The creasy
skin was smooth once… though, it doesn’t bleed now. No, it’s not a wound.
Velvet clothes cover it and it
breathes under them… sighs, mourns and smiles under there…it doesn’t breathe
the air. But the perfume on them is
good… So, no, it’s not a wound!
And then, on those rare times,
when she uncovers it, she softly kisses it, caresses it and covers it back
quickly…is it precious like some memory!? She should let it heal then and time
shall take care of the rest…but she says it’s not a wound… ‘Cause it does not
pain; neither do the nerves ache.
So! No, it’s not a wound…!
It shall never pain.
Sep 11, 2013
Sometimes!
Hair loosely tied in a messy half bun, non moisturized hands and feet, in pajamas and tee; I was enervated. Sometimes our routine triggers a unique thought process in our minds; exactly when we are amid some household work like cooking or laundering or may be cleaning.
‘Sometimes’ is a very interesting word; we use it with happiness, grief, success, failure, luck, life, friends et al. And sometimes we do not know where to use it. Last time when I wrote something like this I was perplexed; it was around 3 years ago. That is when I married a ‘Sparrow’. Not only did it change my relationship status on social networking pages; it also changed my perspective about life a 180 degrees. It took me a significant amount of time to perceive the things going around me, in this new world called ‘Army’.
As an outsider, seeing those bush green Army vehicles passing by in a convoy, and military men hanging on them; I would feel patriotic, happy, excited and everything all together. Few years from then, today, feeling patriotic is not occasional; I feel it every minute. Sometimes I pick up those heavy books lying on his study table and leaf over; the war narrations and blood stories would leave me aghast. Today, I understand how this organization makes a simple man into a soldier; who otherwise would not know how he could bring a difference to the people…to the country. Of a silent seed of devotion, this organization, nurtures a tough tree of patriotism. The roots of which, bind the whole country together. These soldiers are like walking weapons in olive sheath, standing strong against any menace. We’d not know until we were here…here with them!
“No, I will not nag you, when you return home tired. No, I will not complain.
I will instead sit beside, and hear you talk,
I will instead admire your words, while we walk;
Stories of warriors, the wars, and how they would win it, For I do not feel patriotic, occasionally; I feel it every minute.”
Jan 29, 2013
 |
| Phot shot at - Ellora Caves Place - Aurangabad, Maharashtra |
Koi zikr hi nikal aye unka,
Koi khabar hi mil jaye, shayad,
Mein mehfil mein yun beitha, sham se …
ki us sheher ke har shaks se dosti kar dali …
ki us sheher ke har shaks se dosti kar dali …
Nov 7, 2012
Poems are not like faces;
you must delve deep down to like them.
 |
| Photo Shot at ~ Dal Lake Place ~ Kashmir |
Nov 1, 2012
Un yadon ke haqdaar bhi sirf kuch hi ho sakte hain …
Photo shot ~ Closed Room, with a lamp shade and Flower Vase
Place ~ Delhi
May 15, 2012
Din ke us peher ke baad ....
Mujhe ghar tak aane wali har aahat teri lagti hai…
Wahan bhi, yahan bhi..in char deewaron ki khamoshi mein bhi,
Tere aane se jane tak ke fasle ke darmiyan,
reh gaye hain kuch sawal, kuch kahaniyan…
ek dil tha..kuch kora sa..mere paas
ab hain sirf syahiyan hi syahiyan …
Din ke us peher ke baad, jab waqt kuch tham sa jaata hai,
Samundar ke kinare, geeli thandi ret mein,
Meri ungli se bani, har banawat teri lagti hai …
kuch purane nagmon mein gungunahat teri lagti hai
reh gaye hain kuch sawal, kuch kahaniyan…
ek dil tha..kuch kora sa..mere paas
ab hain sirf syahiyan hi syahiyan …
~Photo title: Khamoshi
~Photo shot at: Gulmarg, Kashmir
