Change

Someone has broken the shackles..

Was he in a cage?

Or didn’t find a way out?

Change, let him flow.

Another layer,

Until he is hardened too much to know.

 

 

 

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Imagine

Can you see the ship sail

On the deserted lawn,

And a city in the bubble of a soap?

Can you see the grin,

On that emotionless face?

That desolate shopkeeper utters no words,

And tells some beautiful tales,

Of the sundry efforts,

And the hapless fails.

Can you hear it though?

Imagine.

Are you alive?

 

 

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अब आम हूँ, ख़ास नहीं |

ना अर्थ है, ना सामर्थ्य है,
ना ज़िद है, ना ख्वाहिशें ही,
कोलाहल रहा करता था भीतर,
अब वह भी नहीं |

ना आग है बची, ना पानी रहा,
चल रहा हूँ, मंज़िल तक नहीं,
कर रहा हूँ,
पर आस है नहीं |

थक गया हूँ, उदास हूँ नहीं,
ना बैर किसी से,
और ना दम भर है लड़ने का |

रहने दो मुझे,
मैं ख़ास था,
अब आम ही सही |

 

 

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Direction

Searching for direction,

Sailing through the storm,

A knock on the window,

A wind of imperfect form.

The rushes, and gushes,

And the merciless blows,

The monotonous talks,

And the raising of brows.

The sentiments urging,

And the suppressing jobs,

The duel of thoughts,

The irrelevant flaws.

I step with the wind,

They look with disdain,

A constant urge,

Shouldn’t go in vain.

 

 

 

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रक़ीब

वो सबकुछ है,
और कुछ भी तो नही |
पंख मिले तो रक़ीब आसमां,
उसे ज़मीन से भी तो कोई गुरेज़ नही |

 

 

 

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Sneaky peeks

And those sneaky eye contacts

between those weird dance moves,

they felt the appeal

of the very first time.

 

 

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Lonely? Or sanely alone?

While you look out for love,

he peeks inside.

And, with his smiles

you can’t identify.

You say he’s lost,

But, aren’t we all?

And you say it’s blue,

when he’s sure, it’s black all right.

Is he lonely

Or sanely alone?

 

 

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The persistent crawl

Vacant nights…

And the disasters within,

Tired eyes…

No sleep.

 

Missing home…

When will it be?

 

Craving time,

Wasting time,

Never ending duel.

 

Wishing upon,

Running from it,

Chaos, chaos.

 

Damp spirits…

Crawling.

 

Dozing off,

Waking up,

And moving on.

 

 

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Brooding tree

I feel like a tree…

But my branches did not grow, I pasted them with glue.

I feel obliged to feed these branches,

With the water that I soaked from the ground…

And, I realize, sometimes without me knowing,

they feed on me.

I need to cut these branches, these distractions down,

But I am only growing upwards,

Without reflecting on what’s adding up.

They weigh me down,

And hinder my growth,

As a tree…

As a human being.

 

 

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Unfinished…

Some letters left unposted,

Some feelings never shared…

Some fragrances becoming headaches,

Some answers unprepared…

Some faces fading away,

New interactions made…

Living lies everyday,

Wishing that someone cared…

 

 

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