Happy Anniversary Ma-Baba...

I may fight with you, or irritate you guys to no end…
I may argue about everything and never agree with you…
I may say things that hurt you too…
I may never look back once I am on the way…
I may forget to call when I was meant to…
I may call you only when I need you and forget that you may need me too…
I may not listen to you ever and contest you on every statement…
I may break every rule you ever put down for me
I may disappoint you everyday in one way or other
I may have failed to fulfil your dreams…
I may have misbehaved, cried and rebelled against you…
I may have done all this and much more to torment you…
But know this, ma-baba…you are the only two people with whom I can do all this and more, be unreasonable, be a brat, be a spoilt one and still hope for nothing more but love… the only two who I know would always love me…would always be there to catch me if I fall…
I may not say it much… but it’s a special occasion, so let me tell you that you are the only two people who can make me feel the way I do around you guys…

Happy anniversary, Ma-Baba… forever love – rumi….

kab aisa maine socha thha...

क्या चाहा था मैने तुमसे, इक कतरा मेरा अपना ही... 

 

जो वो भी मुझे नसीब न होगा, कब ऐसा मैंने सोचा था

 

कब की प्यासी हूँ क्या जानूँ, अब तो वो भी याद नहीं...

 

समंदर से प्यास बुझाने चली, भूल गई वो खारा है...

 

ऐसा पानी भी क्या पानी, पीकर जिसको जल - कुढ़ जाऊँ भीतर भीतर

क्या मैं कहूँ किस - किसको समझाऊं... क्या - कैसा मैंने सोचा था...

अपने  उस कतरे की ढूंढ में, न जाने कितनी परतें हटीं...

 

कुछ थीं हलकी और कुछ भारी, कुछ बुरी पर कुछ प्यारी...

वो कड़वी भी थीं और वो थीं मीठीं भी... खट्टी भी और कुछ कसैली भी...

पर थी तो ये सब मेरी हीं... इन परतों के अन्दर बाहर,

इन्हीं परतों के ऊपर नीचे... बस ढूंढती रह जाऊँगी ज़िन्दगी भर...

कब ऐसा मैंने सोचा था... क्या क्या और कैसा कैसा मैंने सोचा था...
 

yaadon ka trunk...

ख़ूबसूरती उस लम्हे की क्या बयाँ करूँ...

 

जो ख़ुद ही अनायास खींच ले जाती हैं उन भूली यादों की ओर 

 

जिन्हें एक बड़े से लोहे के ट्रंक में क़ैद कर के रखा है...

 

एक मोटा सा ताला भी जड़ दिया है...

 

कहीं अचानक से वही यादें ना आ धमकें फिर आँखों के सामने 

 

उस ट्रंक में आज जर लगता दिखता है...

 

जानती हूँ उसे अब खाली कर, बदल डालने का वक़्त आ गया है...

 

जाने क्यूँ हिम्मत ही नहीं पड़ती 

 

बस अनजाने ही उस पर एक एक करके कुछ और सामान धरती जाती हूँ...

 

कहीं अचानक से वही यादें ना आ धमकें फिर आँखों के सामने...

 

 

colours of life in a metro...

Its orange and red, the sky…
The colour her cry for help might have been…
The orange reflections in the grey murky sea…
Much like her screams enveloped by the naked lust of flesh…
The indifferent neutral browns never empathised…
The calm and responsible blues shrugged their shoulders…
A day later the vibrant reds and soft pinks joined hands with the bold black…
The greens and yellows sniggering at them…
Still there were some neither here nor there figuring out their tone on the palette…
The olive and sap greens with the maligned whites confounded, dumbfounded and then falling apart only to splatter then fade away….
And then it all ended with a shroud of white… bringing back the murky greys yet again out to prey…

intezaar...

ख़्वाबों ख़यालों की एक दुनिया वो भी थी...

जहाँ तुम्हारी टोह ले रही हूँ 

आज भी... 

 

जब कोहरे की एक धुंधली सी परत के उस ओर 

एक उम्मीद सी दिख जाती थी...

ख़ुशबू उस पसीने की 

जानी पहचानी सी... 

परछाई उस किसी की 

जिसे मानो बस अभी अभी छुआ था... 

वही कलम घिसने की सी आहट 

कुछ ढाढस बंधा जाती है... 

 

आज भी ...

i miss her...

The red and beige chequered piece of a cloth tied in the coal black dripping wet hair…

The odd astray lock of hair and drops of water trickling down her neck seeping through her thin cotton blouse…mingling with her sweat in the sweltering Indian heat

Slowly humming some sweet melody and cooking a spicy fish curry or some dal…

As I walk around stomping my feet for almost everything and nothing she looks up… exasperated mostly still sympathetic…

Busy as ever but she has time…at least for me always…

With a steaming cup of black tea to pacify me… just when I need it…and a smile that always made me feel ‘it’s all gonna be ok’

The soft firm support which has been there… no matter what

I stand in the kitchen and listen to the crackling mustard seeds and miss her everyday…

She’s but just a phone call away…but I miss her…

weird things...

I think of weird things…
Maybe things you would never understand… not that I expect you to
But then that’s how I’ve always been…
There was a time I romanticised it as being ‘misunderstood’
And had my own naïve drama going on
I’ve learnt to live with it…
Naah! Am lying…
I haven’t learnt to live with it…
It’s just who I am…
I think about the shapes that water makes when a bucket overflows
And don’t turn it off…
I look at a lizard and wish for it to speak
And the next moment freak out finding it creepy
Also I look at you and feel an unfathomable breach of trust
The next moment a love so strong, that I cannot bear…

the fight - 2

And that was the first time I wanted to break free
Fighting against atleast someone at any point
Now I fight myself
Coz I am ruled by  the rules..
Those that I chose to break
Those that I hated forever
I look for a haven that doesn’t tell me what to do and what not
Where sky can be violet and water be yellow
Where I can fly with the wings of thought
And when would that be?

the fight...

I think it was calculus in the 11^th grade that made me see light…
That this is not me…
I wanted more, than just some disciplined numbers who live by the rules…
That’s when I started fighting.
Today it’s a habit I can’t break
I try but I don’t understand the obsession
The rules…
How do we tell right from wrong?
And frankly why do we bother?
Would judging make the act right?
Really?
So what do we do?
Quit…
Coz I see that all around…
And everyday at least once I see one in a mirror…
It’s fancy to say that I picked myself up!
But do you really ever?

clutched fists and meaningless space...

Walking around in the damp mist… I get a whiff… of something…

something familiar… but I don’t go looking for you…
it might disappear… and then I will have neither the whiff nor you…
It’s not the first time… nor will it be the last…
I will walk into you… here, there and I guess lots of places…
almost everywhere…
clutched fists have seemed precious always…who knows what they hold…
lest you open them, to find… well to find nothing but meaningless space…

i wonder...

Was it blood, or just some sweat???

All I could tell was that it was that salty something in my mouth, so familiar yet so novel…

It was dark…or was it?

It had always been this way since I can remember

The same things are a little different today…

The salt had a bit of a bitter sweet in it

But is the darkness any different???

I wonder…