Me. Myself.

In my notes there are odd references to love
that often tread on the limits of infringements
some that follow till destruction.

I read me intrigued, at what thoughts have been.

Meri Kavita ke Arth

Aaj shayad main kuch aisa na likhoon
jise padhkar aapko lage ki kavita ke maayne
kitne sach hain, in shabdon mein.

Kavita ek zariya bas hai ek kahaani sunane ka.

Main kyun likhun woh sach jo vastvikta pe pachtaye
main kyun likhun woh shabd jo mujhe hi takraye.

Hua hai aisa bhi jab shabd saamuhik shoshan karte hain
vichaar dabi awaaz mein bhi kuch kahne se darte hain,
phir kyun main aas lagaaun apni baat badhaane ki
panktiyaan aise kyun banaaon jinme kshamta ho dhah jaane ki.

Yahi sach hai ki shabd khokhle bhi hote hain
meri bhaavnaon ke arth jhoothe bhi hote hain.

Something Shrugged

They have seen the deserts convert into graves and graves being deserted by those who once loved the loved ones now dead.
Those who carried the light disappeared.
Those who were crazy and loved disappeared.

They have seen the explosives being carried by the railroads and the railroads being exlploded by those who cared.
Those who never heard the songs slept.
Those who sing have once wept.

They have seen the mountains merge into the horizon and horizon being lost behind the mountains.
Those who understood disappeared.
Those who stayed, never said.

Her Abstractions

She has an unguarded sense of vanity
a brush stroke used, littered
lips curled into maroon
sky touched with a hideous blue.
She wears selected moments in her hair
wraps her up in a fragile layers
and looks through violet shades.
Assorted rumours glitter in her nailpaints
some green, some red
some those blushed in the bed.

Apni Hi Baat

aaj nayi si ek kahani sunata hun
apni hi baat apni zabaani batata hun

dhoondhte hain jo log khuda mujhme
main unme hi haivaaniyat pata hun

mila tha kisi ka ateet mujhe kuch der pahle
uska aaj batane mein main bhi ghabrata hun

mere liye jisne duniya se ranjish ki
usse hi aaj main duniya se chupaata hun

waqt pe bolta tha jo shaqs har baat
uski khaamoshi aapko samjhaata hun

The Girl Tuesday

Of all the things that he could have been called
they chose to call him Monday.
People received him with a certain malice
an emotion he privately reserved
for the girl who always came in late
and yet into acceptance, the girl Tuesday.

Beyond

I speak what you belive can never be said -
Of the restless rhymes
Of the sins explored
Of the love slit through eyes
Of the gods ignored.

I live where you belive it all ends -
In the heart of darkness
In the clouds beyond rain
In the words not yet made
In the dances of insane.

..

Mushkil hai kisi se kahna ki pyaar ab raha nahi
apna hoke bhi koi, itna apna nahi hota.

Black tide

The black tide swept him away
to a place where the demons pray
and he smiled at his own darkness.

I'm Sorry - 2

I wonder if love would be the same
as it was once,
when she looked with eyes
in such lovely disguise.

Love would not remain
as it was once,
I would exchange lies
with lovely eyes.

I wonder that I still think of love
as it was once,
when we painted skies
to hide surprise.

Love would then remain
as it was once,
in our eyes, and
with time, see it flies.