Tuesday, September 22, 2015

He tells me 'Time doesn't exist, only clock does'.
I look at his ageing face, 
his acne raising like volcanoes, 
hiding the rage that burns the core inside,
secreting mucus,
like all tears have been strangled to death.
All that remains is a face, bereft of life.
Sometimes, I look into those defeated eyes,
searching for the clock.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Kisike takiye k niche kitni kahani chupi hai,

pallu mein bhande huye,

baalo mein gajre ki tarha,

kisi k chasmoo ne kitne hi mausam dekhe honge,

pocket mein chupe huwa paise ki tarha kitno ne jawani lutawe honge, 

rumalo mein chupe aasuyone kiska dilka bhoj liye huwe,

kisike cigarate ki duwe ne kitne dilo ko jalaya hoga, 

phir kahi kisike haato ki pakwaano ne kitne riskte siche honge,

kisike kitaabo ne kitne chitthiya pohochae hongi,

ek botol sihayi ne kitnahi shabdo ko jora hoga,

dadima ke paan ki gillorine kitne kahaniye sajae hongi,

kisike jutohne kitnahi maanzile paayi hongi.

aur kisike kalam ne kisi shaayar ka saath nibhaya hoga,

Aur kisi shaayar ne har din, kisi aysi hi raat ka intezar kiya hoga.

Friday, September 4, 2015

A virgin forest was the heart, like new leaf hope grew on plants, dancing in the rain that washed the trees of life.
The windows of childhood never ran out breeze, the rivers never ran dry,  the sky spread as far as eyes, like a giant blue umbrella.

Thoughts like kite soared in open spaces. Days and nights passed like snails of the forest.A zillion breath of time, melted into the green box of dreams.

Now memory is a shadow floating in those barren lands, dust and ashes grows on the burnt branches that survived the fire, sometimes the eagles come looking for the trees, they tell tales of the forest to the stones.
Ghosts roam in the corridors that highways sold us, the bed of bones that crack under the weight of dreams reminds us of the dry leaves, the cacophony that drowns this graveyard strangled the lullabies of the night angles.

Yet  I go looking for that green box sometimes and return  with stones in hand.

They say life can grow under stones. I  Only wish if worms could fly.

Emotional Saina takes CWG gold, a title to heal Rio Olympics pain

Looking up at the sky, Saina Nehwal let out a scream after grabbing the coveted gold, eight years after she had become the toast of the ...