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Something about…
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On a chilly morning
when the sun falls
only on the face,
the ears feel
colder than before.
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जो बातों में नहीं दिखता,
वह आँखों में दिख जाता है |
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बेआबरू ख्वाहिशों ने फिर ढिंढोरा पीटा है,
वक़्त मुनासिब ना सही,
जज़्बा ही मांझी बना बैठा है |
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वह रात काली ना थी,
या उजाला ढूंढ लाना फितरत बन गया था उसकी |
He called it selfishness…
She called it self love.
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Though life is like a complex knitted sweater,
yet it’s fun unraveling it,
as once untangled,
you’ll be left with meaningless straight threads.
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And suddenly
a moment appears
sublime, drifting and gone
leaving you
with reminiscence.
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