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…