tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-292390272024-03-06T23:53:05.937-08:00Glistening ShadowsPoetry or something like that...
The name says it all, this is plainly an attempt to take my heights of craziness into the lyrical domain. I have a rich imagination. That I think so is proof enough for that!! So, People! Come here to hear me say things you all know in words you cannot comprehend!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger384125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-24321958192006113702020-07-26T13:22:00.004-07:002020-07-26T13:22:47.903-07:00380. Our kind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
our kind<br />
is<br />
so blasphemous<br />
so terrible<br />
where I come from<br />
we would cease to belong<br />
the moment we started to be<br />
<br />
our kind<br />
is<br />
so wrong<br />
so unacceptable<br />
that they did not<br />
make a word for us<br />
lest we are conjured into existence<br />
lest we become real<br />
just by dressing us in sounds<br />
<br />
little did they know that<br />
we already existed<br />
<br />
our kind<br />
has<br />
existed unnamed<br />
for so long<br />
that each time our story is narrated<br />
we seem new, unfamiliar, and infeasible<br />
<br />
well,<br />
here<br />
we are then<br />
older than now<br />
older than forever<br />
<br />
here<br />
we are<br />
the oldest story<br />
you do not know yet<br />
<br />
here<br />
we are<br />
<br />
And<br />
here<br />
we will continue to be<br />
<br />
--</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-10250214197350771622020-05-29T19:22:00.001-07:002020-05-29T19:28:54.993-07:00379. संभलके / Sambhalke<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ये जिस्म अपना<br />
बातूनी है बहुत<br />
<br />
खामोश रहके भी<br />
कहानियाँ सुनाता है<br />
अफ़वाएँ फैलाता है<br />
<br />
ऐसा है के<br />
ये कुछ भी कहे<br />
या कुछ न कहे<br />
औरों को सुनाई देता है<br />
कुछ न कुछ<br />
और कुछ न कुछ<br />
समझ आ ही जाता है<br />
<br />
उस बच्ची के चेहरे पे मुस्कान<br />
इस लड़के के चेहरे पे मेक-अप<br />
उस औरत के सर को ढकता हिजाब<br />
इस आदमी के माथे पे तिलक<br />
उस बुज़ुर्ग का खुद से बातें करना<br />
उस लड़की के पैर और उस पैर पे उगते बाल?<br />
<br />
ये सभी तो<br />
बेख़बर<br />
बेखयाल<br />
चले जा रहे हैं<br />
सड़कों पर<br />
<br />
पर लोग हैं कि<br />
हर चीज़ में<br />
कहानियाँ ढूँढते सुनते जाते हैं<br />
<br />
तभी कहते हैं<br />
सोच समझके निकला करो<br />
घर से<br />
<br />
क्या पता<br />
क्या पढ़ ले बेकाम दुनिया<br />
तुम्हारे लहजे में<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-87503394476006533512020-05-16T19:27:00.000-07:002020-05-29T19:28:17.583-07:00378. गुल्लक / Gullak<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
बचपन में<br />
हम गुल्लक में अठन्नी-चवन्नी<br />
जमा किया करते थे<br />
के खर्च करेंगे वो पैसे<br />
जब कोई दिलचस्प सा तजुर्बा मिले हमें<br />
<br />
साथ में गोलगप्पे खाएँ<br />
या खरीदें कोई टिंकल-चंपक<br />
जो साथ बैठ-के पढें<br />
<br />
काश हम वक़्त को जमा कर पाते ऐसे<br />
<br />
आजकल<br />
तुम्हारे बिना दिन-रात गुज़ारता तो हूँ पर<br />
बेफ़िज़ूल लगते हैं सभी<br />
<br />
जैसे इन लम्हों का<br />
न कोई वजूद है न वजह<br />
<br />
जैसे तुम्हारे बिना वक़्त है<br />
पर ज़िंदगी नहीं<br />
<br />
अगर वक़्त को जमा कर पाता तो<br />
हर दिन के हर पहर का हर लम्हा<br />
मैं डालता इक गुल्लक में<br />
<br />
और जब दुनिया के दरवाज़े खुले<br />
<br />
गुल्लक फोड़के वो सारे जमा लम्हे<br />
लेकर आता तुम्हारे यहाँ<br />
के हम साथ में खर्च करें<br />
ये उम्र<br />
<br />
और अपने लिए<br />
थोड़ी यादें<br />
थोड़ी ज़िंदगी<br />
खरीद लें!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-59327525877910343232020-04-29T19:22:00.000-07:002020-04-29T19:22:24.019-07:00377. बंद रास्ते/ Band Raste<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ये हम क्या कर रहे हैं, जान?<br />
<br />
हम इक दूसरे को<br />
झूठे मुस्कान<br />
और खोखली गुफ्तगू<br />
परोसते हैं<br />
हर पहर<br />
<br />
इक वो वक़्त था<br />
जब तुम्हारे मुस्कान<br />
पढ़ पाती थी मैं<br />
और उनमें<br />
इश्क़ के न जाने कितने नक़्श<br />
मिलते मुझे<br />
<br />
मेरी रूह<br />
तुम्हारी आँखों में घुली मौज़ीकी सुनके<br />
रक़्स करती<br />
<br />
हम बिना कुछ बोलो<br />
कितनी बातें कर लेते थे, न?<br />
<br />
और अब<br />
<br />
अब<br />
तुम मेरे सामने बैठे रहते हो<br />
और मैं तुम्हे तलाशती रहती हूँ<br />
<br />
नाकाम सी कोशिशें<br />
करते रहते हैं हम<br />
फिर से इश्क़ उगाने की<br />
<br />
पर<br />
उगती हैं यहाँ<br />
तो बस इक उदास सी खामोशी<br />
जिसकी न कोई वजह है न इलाज<br />
<br />
काश कोई बताता हमें<br />
के रिश्ते ख़त्म नहीं होते<br />
बस बेमतलब हो जाते हैं<br />
<br />
और हम बस इन्हें निभाते जाते हैं<br />
जैसे ये कोई बेबुनियाद रवायत हो<br />
<br />
न याद है<br />
की ये शुरू किया ही क्यूँ था<br />
<br />
न उम्मीद<br />
की ये ख़त्म होगी भी कभी<br />
<br />
काश कोई बताता हमें</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-80669034392177936472020-04-29T18:55:00.002-07:002020-04-29T18:55:31.993-07:00376. Deadends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What are we doing here, babu?<br />
<br />
We serve each other<br />
stale silence and fake smiles<br />
each day<br />
<br />
There was a time<br />
when your silence would narrate<br />
fresh fantasies<br />
each moment<br />
<br />
and your smile would take me<br />
on journeys to worlds<br />
that I didn't know existed<br />
<br />
I scour your presence now<br />
to find that person<br />
I loved<br />
<br />
and fail<br />
<br />
I ask you how your day was<br />
and you shrug<br />
<br />
You ask me if I am ok<br />
and I nod slowly<br />
<br />
we act like we care<br />
and sometimes we actually do<br />
but neither of us knows the difference anymore<br />
<br />
I wish<br />
someone had told us<br />
that relationships don't end<br />
<br />
that time just wears them out<br />
and they morph<br />
into inane rituals<br />
of disdain and indifference<br />
and drag on<br />
<br />
that we hold on<br />
not because we want to<br />
but because we have nowhere else to go<br />
<br />
I wish<br />
someone had told us<br />
that it hurts when things end<br />
but it hurts way more<br />
when they have no way to<br />
<br />
I wish<br />
someone had told us</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-15288009350896794132020-04-24T09:29:00.000-07:002020-04-27T09:32:12.775-07:00375. दर्द / Dard <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
कहने को तो हम साथ हैं<br />
देखने को हम एक जैसे हैं<br />
<br />
लेकिन तजुर्बो ने तेरे<br />
तुझे किसी लंबे सफ़र पे<br />
भेजा है<br />
और मेरी ज़िंदगी ने मुझे<br />
कहीं और<br />
<br />
कहने को हम बोलते तो एक जैसे हैं<br />
पर मसले अलग हैं<br />
अल्फ़ाज़ एक जैसे<br />
पर मतलब अलग हैं<br />
<br />
ऐसे में हम एक जगह पहुँचते कैसे<br />
<br />
हम हम-उम्र तो हैं<br />
पर दोनों मे<br />
अपने अपने उमरों का फासला जो है<br />
<br />
तुम्हें माँगना सिखाया है<br />
मुझे देना<br />
<br />
तुम्हें चलना<br />
मुझे संभालना<br />
<br />
तुम्हें उड़ना<br />
मुझे मुड़ना<br />
<br />
तुम्हें खुद पे फक़्र सिखाया है<br />
मुझे बस फिक़्र<br />
<br />
तभी तुम<br />
लोगों को<br />
फरिश्ते नज़र आते हो<br />
<br />
और मैं...<br />
<br />
मैं लोगों को<br />
नज़र आती ही कहाँ हूँ!<br />
--<br />
<br />
I was thinking about the lingering heartache when one is treated all along as a lesser being. The heartache of being invisible to the world. Though sexism and patriarchy informed this thought. This could as well be about race. About religion. About caste. About class. About ability. About identity.<br />
<br />
As Damini remarked, we are sent/send such different messages about our places in the world - our abilities, our rights. What we owe. What we deserve. What we can do and desire. What we can expect and ask from life!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-17607641803900409522020-04-11T09:16:00.000-07:002020-04-27T09:17:15.959-07:00374. Homesick<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I sit alone<br />
rocking gently<br />
to soothe myself<br />
over a cup of ginger chai<br />
quarantined on this planet out of orbit<br />
<br />
My soul is sore<br />
from all the contortions it does<br />
to clear out all the lifetimes I hoard<br />
so that<br />
I may have space on my mental shelf<br />
for foreign seasons and forever falsehoods<br />
<br />
I started<br />
dressing everything I eat<br />
with grated ginger and asafoetida<br />
to remember the taste of home<br />
<br />
I do this from the day I noticed<br />
that I am forgetting all the places I can no longer be in<br />
<br />
I am forgetting them<br />
faster than<br />
I am learning to feel at home where I have to be<br />
<br />
And I worry<br />
<br />
I worry<br />
that soon<br />
home will just be a moment<br />
stuck in a memory I cannot recall<br />
<br />
I worry<br />
so<br />
I sit alone<br />
rocking gently<br />
to soothe myself<br />
over a cup of ginger chai</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-33652048735210456512018-11-16T09:10:00.000-08:002020-04-27T09:12:08.559-07:00373. Autumn Desires<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Will you come by<br />
to decorate my songs<br />
with rhinestones?<br />
<br />
Roll with me<br />
in a pile of<br />
autumn-colored ideas?<br />
<br />
Help me<br />
pluck off music<br />
stuck in my hair after,<br />
while I dust off foreign metaphors<br />
off your coat?<br />
<br />
Will you help me<br />
make dessert-y boozy drinks<br />
with star-dust, nostalgia, fair-trade chocolate, and almond milk?<br />
<br />
And when we are high<br />
on hope and humor,<br />
we could hop down<br />
cobble-stone memory lanes<br />
and teach everyone<br />
how to dance?<br />
<br />
Well,<br />
<br />
We will be so fabulous<br />
the world will join in<br />
<br />
We are so fabulous<br />
the world has to join in<br />
<br />
We were always so fabulous<br />
the world couldn't but join in<br />
<br />
Or if that is too much,<br />
we could just grab some coffee sometime<br />
and smile in silence<br />
at possibilities!<br />
<br />
What do you think?! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-44845675112492627142018-08-20T21:07:00.000-07:002018-08-20T21:07:31.758-07:00372. Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
he<br />
arrived<br />
a little later than planned<br />
<br />
he<br />
arrived<br />
<br />
and<br />
switched the sky on<br />
as soon as he arrived<br />
<br />
and dragged out,<br />
the sun hiding behind<br />
vermilion cotton candy clouds<br />
<br />
yes,<br />
he arrived<br />
like he meant business<br />
<br />
he<br />
arrived<br />
with a helmet of well-coiffed hair<br />
<br />
prepared<br />
to join the army of three<br />
<br />
armed<br />
to bring the world down<br />
with kindness and cuteness<br />
<br />
determined<br />
to wake the world up<br />
to possibilities<br />
<br />
and if i were you,<br />
i would surely place my bets<br />
on these three<br />
<br />
like they say,<br />
tomorrow will be here<br />
no matter what<br />
<br />
and<br />
tomorrow<br />
just arrived<br />
<br />
--<br />
<br />
PS: Bodhi is here, joining Ishan and Sai. My nephews breathe life into me each time I meet them. And inspire and encourage and join me in my hope for a kinder better world. So everyone everywhere join me in a celebratory jig.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-56287428903386405492017-07-19T13:55:00.001-07:002017-07-19T14:08:43.887-07:00371. Bridge to reality<p dir="ltr">my reality<br>
was an acquaintance</p>
<p dir="ltr">we were born around the same time <br>
reality was someone i grew up around</p>
<p dir="ltr">not too close<br>
more like<br>
a polite civil distant equation</p>
<p dir="ltr">we had mixed feelings <br>
about each other<br>
acknowledging each other<br>
warily<br>
once in a while</p>
<p dir="ltr">and then <br>
i met you<br>
and realised reality was your friend</p>
<p dir="ltr">we all started hanging out<br>
more often<br>
and realised that<br>
reality ain't too bad<br>
so i met reality more<br>
had fun together<br>
most times<br>
we met</p>
<p dir="ltr">except for times <br>
like this evening<br>
when i meet with reality<br>
in a strange fun city<br>
without you around</p>
<p dir="ltr">walking down streets<br>
with buildings holding up the sky <br>
over wayward traffic</p>
<p dir="ltr">sharing an IPA<br>
at a boisterous bar</p>
<p dir="ltr">over awkward silence</p>
<p dir="ltr">reality and i <br>
we both agree<br>
we are better off <br>
with you around </p>
<p dir="ltr">so next time<br>
join us </p>
<p dir="ltr">Ok?</p>
<p dir="ltr">--</p>
<p dir="ltr">NYC<br>
Missing boy<br>
19 <u>July</u><br>
</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-43380604552805151012017-04-02T19:42:00.004-07:002017-04-02T20:50:56.682-07:00370. Springtime epiphanies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i used to<br />
watch the cherry blossoms sway wildly<br />
each spring<br />
and wonder<br />
if they were dressing up<br />
and dancing in the breeze<br />
with glee<br />
<br />
and now I think<br />
i got it wrong all along<br />
i think they are<br />
just tired of playing dress up<br />
and standing on display<br />
<br />
they are just wriggling frantically<br />
to get out<br />
and move away from this planet<br />
of 7 billion people<br />
who just don't care<br />
<br />
---<br />
<b>Climate change </b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-88037834388393556912017-03-31T13:12:00.003-07:002017-04-06T11:32:42.425-07:00369. The mansplainer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br>
do not<br>
bother yourself<br>
with such frivolities<br>
my love<br>
<br>
you are built<br>
for beautiful things<br>
<br>
do not<br>
attempt to understand or explain<br>
you are too exquisite and delicate<br>
for such unglamorous endeavors<br>
<br>
allow me<br>
the honor<br>
of telling you<br>how you actually feel</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">what you actually know</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">why you actually are<br>
<br>
because<br>
you do not know<br>
anything<br>
about yourself<br>
while<br>
i...<br>
i know all there is to know<br>
about you<br>
<br>
so allow<br>
me the privilege<br>
of presenting you to the world<br>
and silencing you to beauty<br>
<br>
--</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-26803567650888692262017-03-31T13:07:00.002-07:002017-03-31T13:07:31.682-07:00368. Misplaced nostalgia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
there were times<br />
when<br />
we really wanted this<br />
<br />
and<br />
there were also reasons<br />
we rather not have wanted it all<br />
<br />
but now that<br />
we do have it<br />
<br />
we cannot seem to forget<br />
the reasons we should not have<br />
<br />
nor can we seem to remember<br />
the times we wanted this so bad<br />
or why<br />
<br />
why is it<br />
that we can never find<br />
what we are looking for<br />
in this house?<br />
<br />
ugh.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-65304372670452404222017-03-31T13:02:00.003-07:002017-03-31T13:02:47.252-07:00367. Reasons for silence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
is it that<br />
i cannot talk<br />
about the the only things<br />
i really want to<br />
talk about<br />
<br />
or is it that<br />
i only want to talk<br />
about the things<br />
i really should not<br />
talk about</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-84170856538639801632017-03-31T09:48:00.004-07:002017-03-31T10:55:35.046-07:00366. Camouflage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
people<br />
wear camouflage to<br />
pass<br />
unnoticed<br />
<br />
i<br />
wear<br />
my own name and face<br />
as camouflage<br />
<br />
a name<br />
made of so many unspeakable parts<br />
a face<br />
that i share with a billion others<br />
<br />
and just like most camouflage<br />
there are many places<br />
they make me completely invisible<br />
and there are few places<br />
they make me way too conspicuous<br />
<br />
but just like most camouflage<br />
there is no place<br />
where my name and face<br />
feel like<br />
they completely belong</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-5553902787617668172017-02-18T20:08:00.001-08:002017-02-18T20:08:40.131-08:00365. Freefalling<p dir="ltr">living in a place<br>
with too many skies<br>
and just no earth</p>
<p dir="ltr">i flew<br>
till i could<br>
no more</p>
<p dir="ltr">and <br>
now<br>
i am freefalling</p>
<p dir="ltr">and will<br>
forever<br>
now</p>
<p dir="ltr">---<br>
( You scientist folks, don't get technical and ask me how am I freefalling. With no earth, there should be no gravity, hence I should just be floating. F*** you, it's a metaphor)</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-60763526461889197032017-02-02T14:22:00.001-08:002017-02-02T14:22:16.209-08:00364. Imagined<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i have a habit<br />
of missing that person sorely<br />
someone I did not know at all<br />
<br />
i think<br />
often<br />
if they were here<br />
what would my world be like?<br />
would I be me?<br />
or would I be a different intriguing heart-breaking story?<br />
<br />
i have a habit<br />
of missing that person sorely<br />
someone I have never met<br />
<br />
i think<br />
often<br />
if they were here<br />
what would I talk to myself about?<br />
when they would leave snowy solitude at my doorstep,<br />
in the fleece of which language<br />
would I murder the loneliness?<br />
<br />
i have a habit<br />
of missing that person sorely<br />
someone, i do not think actually exists<br />
<br />
what does one do<br />
<br />
when the excuses for complaining<br />
are just so hard to find<br />
then one has to weave one's own pain<br />
<br />
the good thing is<br />
that<br />
i am told<br />
i am quite creative<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
can one miss something that one does not know exists?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-8107898170545936622017-02-02T14:01:00.000-08:002017-02-02T14:14:00.200-08:00363. ख़याल <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
आदत है मुझे<br />
उन शख्स को याद करना<br />
जिन्हें मैं जानता भी नहीं था<br />
<br />
सोचता हूँ<br />
अक्सर<br />
अगर वो होतें<br />
तो कैसा आलम होता<br />
मैं मैं होता?<br />
या होता कोई और दिलचस्प ग़मगीन दास्ताँ?!<br />
<br />
आदत है मुझे<br />
उन शख्स को याद करना<br />
जिन्हें मैंने कभी देखा भी नहीं<br />
<br />
सोचता हूँ<br />
अक्सर<br />
अगर वो होतें<br />
तो मैं खुद से कैसी गुफ़्तगू करता?<br />
जब बर्फीली तन्हाई छोड़ जाते वो<br />
तो मैं किस मखमली जुबां के आग़ोश में<br />
क़त्ल करता उसका?!<br />
<br />
आदत है मुझे<br />
उन शख्स को याद करना<br />
जो शायद कहीं हैं भी नहीं<br />
<br />
क्या करूँ<br />
जब गिले के सबब मुश्किल से भी नहीं मिलते<br />
तो खुद दर्द बुनने बनाने पड़ते हैं<br />
<br />
अच्छी बात ये है<br />
की<br />
मैं वैसे काफी creative हूँ!<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Can you miss something that you do not know exists? :)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-75196211308759959772017-02-02T13:48:00.001-08:002017-02-02T13:48:14.226-08:00362. कबूतर <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
हर सुबह<br />
जब मैं<br />
अपने आँखों की खिड़कियाँ खोलता हूँ<br />
उस चेहरे का मंज़र देखने<br />
तो<br />
पर फड़फड़ाता हुआ<br />
आ बैठता है<br />
सीने में<br />
<br />
इतना हल्ला मचाता है<br />
और<br />
ज़हन में रखी चीज़ें<br />
उड़के बिखरने लगती हैं<br />
<br />
जान निकली जाती है<br />
हाँ<br />
<br />
लाख मनाऊं तो भी नहीं सुनता<br />
लाख भगाऊँ तो भी नहीं उड़ता<br />
<br />
इसके रहते<br />
न सांस मिलती है<br />
न नब्ज़ चलती है<br />
<br />
इस बदमिजाज कबूतर<br />
का नाम<br />
इश्क़<br />
न जाने किसने रख दिया<br />
<br />
उफ़!!<br />
कोई मुझे warn तो करता!?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-345623980128107292016-12-27T18:23:00.000-08:002016-12-27T18:26:59.917-08:00361. The calendar-keeper<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
let me warn you<br />
not to visit her<br />
<br />
she<br />
lives in<br />
a day of many seasons<br />
<br />
each hour<br />
she sprouts a hundred<br />
naive ideas<br />
restless thoughts<br />
<br />
each hour<br />
she blooms a hundred<br />
colorful dances<br />
of passion and wrath<br />
and love and regret<br />
and exuberance and desolation<br />
<br />
each hour<br />
she sheds her being<br />
in crumbly words<br />
and sits in an empty hull<br />
shrouded in<br />
dark silence<br />
and white noise<br />
<br />
let me warn you<br />
not to visit her<br />
<br />
those who visit her<br />
do not live long<br />
but they live longer<br />
than they wished they did</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-28471728477438118532016-12-27T18:01:00.003-08:002016-12-27T18:01:39.515-08:00360. शाम की चाय<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
इक वो दिन थे<br />
जब रोज़ बीसों घंटे<br />
धूप भिखरी पड़ी रहती थी<br />
आँगन में<br />
<br />
काश<br />
मैंने धूप के कुछ सिक्के<br />
उठाके<br />
जमा किये होते<br />
किसी गुल्लक में<br />
<br />
ऐसे किया होता तो<br />
अब जब हर दोपहर<br />
तीन बजे<br />
रात होने लगती है<br />
तो गुल्लक फोड़ के<br />
सौदा करता<br />
जल्दबाज़ दिन से<br />
के<br />
कुछ देर और ठहरा करे<br />
<br />
क्या है की<br />
मुझे शाम के चार बजे की चाय<br />
यूँ<br />
अँधेरे में पीने की<br />
आदत नहीं है न<br />
<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-60479432399977034692016-12-19T12:22:00.002-08:002017-01-04T18:23:57.044-08:00359. An argument with death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>why do we fear you</i><br />
i asked, defiantly<br />
<i>when we know you are inevitable</i><br />
<i>why</i><br />
<i>i intend not to</i><br />
<br />
death smiled<br />
<i>well, why would you not</i><br />
<i>fear me</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>well</i><br />
<i>you will die</i><br />
<i>and you will cease to exist</i><br />
<i>all the things that you thought</i><br />
<i>and said</i><br />
<i>and did </i><br />
<i>and saw</i><br />
<i>and felt</i><br />
<i>and wanted</i><br />
<i>and hated</i><br />
<i>and planned for</i><br />
<i>and accomplished</i><br />
<i>and won</i><br />
<i>and lost</i><br />
<i>and loved</i><br />
<i>and lived</i><br />
<i>there will be no sign left of</i><br />
<i>most of it</i><br />
<i>and soon the last memories of you will fade</i><br />
<i>you may remain as a name</i><br />
<i>maybe</i><br />
<i>or mostly not</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>you will cease to exist</i><br />
<i>and you will not even know </i><br />
<i>that you have ceased to exist</i><br />
<i>even if you really really wished for it</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>you will never know the end of most stories</i><br />
<i>that surround you</i><br />
<i>and you will be a story past </i><br />
<i>none else will care about or have time for</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>so in essence</i><br />
<i>all that you make this life out to be</i><br />
<i>is futile</i><br />
<i>and acknowledging that thought </i><br />
<i>makes you sad and unsettled</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>so you choose fear </i><br />
<i>fear is a good surrogate for sadness</i><br />
<i>you might as well pretend</i><br />
<i>that you do not know what happens</i><br />
<i>when you die</i><br />
<i>and that scares you</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>better be afraid of what comes later</i><br />
<i>than be sad about the uselessness of what is now</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>so you pretend</i><br />
<i>and you turn me</i><br />
<i>death</i><br />
<i>into </i><br />
<i>a poem</i><br />
<i>a parody</i><br />
<i>a person</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>like you are doing now</i><br />
<i>and have a fake argument</i><br />
<i>just to escape the need to accept the pointlessness of your being</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>so now you see</i><br />
<i>why you </i><br />
<i>much rather fear me</i><br />
<i>because </i><br />
<i>the alternative </i><br />
<i>is to seek me</i><br />
<i>in hopelessness</i><br />
<i><br /></i> That is how<br />
i<br />
lost<br />
an argument with death</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-87537626948239565442016-12-14T17:27:00.000-08:002016-12-14T17:27:17.785-08:00358. Boxes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
packed in boxes</div>
<div>
i had left aside </div>
<div>
a lot of books</div>
<div>
planning</div>
<div>
that </div>
<div>
when i find time</div>
<div>
i will release </div>
<div>
all these imprisoned stories</div>
<div>
some day</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
patiently</div>
<div>
all these books</div>
<div>
sat waiting</div>
<div>
for a long while</div>
<div>
in hope </div>
<div>
of the right time</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
slowly </div>
<div>
their pages</div>
<div>
started turning</div>
<div>
that familiar brittle yellow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and then </div>
<div>
one day</div>
<div>
i opened the boxes</div>
<div>
and saw</div>
<div>
that all the stories</div>
<div>
had aged</div>
<div>
so much so</div>
<div>
that</div>
<div>
they crumbled and fell apart</div>
<div>
at the slightest touch</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i</div>
<div>
looked at them</div>
<div>
and smiled</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
we seemed</div>
<div>
to share a story</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
have not i</div>
<div>
been sitting patiently</div>
<div>
in wait for the right time</div>
<div>
so I could</div>
<div>
free the story in me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
maybe</div>
<div>
one day</div>
<div>
when i open my eyes</div>
<div>
i will find myself</div>
<div>
worn by time</div>
<div>
turning that brittle yellow</div>
<div>
and my story tender and no longer relevant</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and </div>
<div>
when someone</div>
<div>
comes by</div>
<div>
and touches me ever so slightly</div>
<div>
with care</div>
<div>
would i crumble </div>
<div>
and fall apart too?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
--</div>
<div>
<i>Translating 348.</i></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-54673500060968473982016-12-14T17:07:00.001-08:002016-12-14T17:07:52.842-08:00357. Winter warriors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
go<br />
somewhere warm<br />
<br />
where the moon<br />
is not draped in<br />
grey wool<br />
<br />
where the streets<br />
are not ablaze<br />
with fake warmth<br />
<br />
where you<br />
do not have to wrap yourself<br />
in too many layers<br />
of thought and theatrics<br />
<br />
go<br />
some place warm<br />
if you arrive before i do<br />
<br />
and i will be there<br />
soon<br />
to wage a war on winter<br />
with you<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29239027.post-41744541257237278312016-12-14T16:57:00.001-08:002016-12-14T16:57:34.859-08:00356. Grindr stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
oh you say<br />
i sleep with the wrong kind<br />
<br />
well<br />
so do you<br />
<br />
mine seek<br />
money<br />
and no drama<br />
<br />
yours seek<br />
english<br />
and perfect punctuation<br />
(though i don't know how grammar helps a one-night stand)<br />
<br />
the ones i seek<br />
want money for a living<br />
no pretense<br />
just food for sustenance<br />
<br />
and yours,<br />
they<br />
want<br />
an illusion of depth<br />
a parody of intellectual stimulation<br />
<br />
i look through my wallet<br />
to give mine<br />
bills<br />
<br />
you jump through hoops<br />
to give yours<br />
validation<br />
<br />
my language is<br />
money<br />
<br />
your currency is<br />
language<br />
<br />
---<br />
<i>ways to discriminate indiscriminately</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0