Friday, 31 October 2014

~ Buoyant, I’d have sailed … ~

~ Buoyant, I’d have sailed … ~
Only if I knew,
Where am I going …
Could have steered my sail’s way,
Propelling thus away,
From the frowning winds,
And the agony stricken sky,
Throwing myself like a heady child,
On the muddy duvet of slapping water,
Face buried deep in the fostering vale of chaos,
Glancing sideways, anticipating an answer,
Moving slowly, an unfaltering mast,
Knowing where to halt,
Feeding on the needed capricious strife …
Hunching the keel, a bit lesser than broken?
But, my hull is still not so strong,
Flanked too poorly, a disgrace to my fantasy-sail,
Could I have better slipped into a stubborn wooden cask?
I may have, only if I knew,
Where am I going …
So now … On the last leg of self, I ruminate —
The unforgettable, of my clammy-decked voyage,
Has not been the setting sun, or the rosy moon,
But not finding my way out, when direly needed …
I am still lost, at the disheveled vortex of this calmness,
Sweating cold like a sea-bull’s back,
And, I can only wait,
As I’ve waited, since always …
I know, I’m kindly destined to drown,
Until I cough the bottom-sand out of my clogged mouth,
And say, fiercely rubbing my teary-eyes with the hilt of my white palm,
‘Death, you beautiful menace, come engulf me fast,
For I belong more to none but thee!’

Tuesday, 28 October 2014

~ Where do I find you now? ~

Image Source: Google

~ Where do I find you now? ~

Somewhat at the same time,
I’d prepare the meal,
Stirring a flat, thin, metal spatula in the skillet,
Dead black with silver scrambled scribbling …
And ‘cause dinner has got half a clock time,
I would just spare a stare, an everyday (stolen) norm,
To look out of the white-painted, wood-framed, window,
Right above the chipped porcelain kitchen sink,
Brimming with dishes and many, many sad distorted faces …
There, I’d find my big, fat, happy, Moon,
Perfect light-golden, baked, a bit on the lop side,
Crisp ends, fluffy middle, soft inside,
Amidst the snack of sprinkled stars,
On the plate of ‘My’ rectangular piece of Sky ……
Out of habit, engraved by time’s years, into my years,
I again looked out … today …
For my luscious Moon, dangling in my nicely cut piece of Sky,
But, there stood patronizing, piquant, oddly seasoned,
Divided in patterns, dotted by windowed luminescence …
Tall buildings, paling; softening only to the morning Sun …
I felt like a small, nimble, wimbling mouse,
Trapped in a bricked mousetrap,
And growled …
At being ensnared also in my fragile, forgetful mind …
I must have forgotten … O’ Dear,
Those with places, view tend to change …
Happy, fat, Moon … I miss you baby, so much!

Monday, 27 October 2014

~ Ignoring you? ~

~ Ignoring you? ~
Poseidon of a lost, incognito sea,
YOU … Flowing in me,
Blood … much alike you tend to be,
Present, never evident, but why?
And that most I forge to forget,
Professing my failure to reminisce how we met,
Cognizing your ‘forever’ love, but,
Losing the thrust to my trepidations,
Whenever it’s time to acknowledge,
But, you’re there, inside me,
Flowing incessantly,
Such placidly, answering to my conundrums,
Throbbing with my infrequent throbs —
Ain’t you at ceaseless torture? I know, you are …
Encapsulating what I hold,
In those tiny but zillion pods,
Enkindling the cinders of my white-knuckled wrongs,
Into chaste, feral sanguinity — you render me alive, hence …
Ablaze you fall and rise, within my selfish, tepid walls,
You’re there, always, yes always … Inside me …
Fading away in a swift, soft, cat-pawed move,
Evanescent knot of some ‘forever’ desired off-the-wall bend,
And, for my bloody sanity sake,  
You’re ‘Still’ holding, both the ends!
How in God’s name can I even ignore you?
I wish to live … *Smiles* … still …………

Thursday, 23 October 2014

~ More … ~

~ More … ~
Loneliness is a bad debt …
……… With no more hope of recovering from ………
Enveloping void sucks one in,
Embracing further, it really does …
Clouded air, damp and heavy,
Which loner breathes, more alone,
Unto one's grave …
Even to sleep there, more bygone n' more, more alone ………
How bare, lone, and dark is here,
In my dusty grave,
Being the same paled pretty loner,
I swear by the name of God,
Howsoever goodly dead,
I die more! So more! So more!

Thursday, 16 October 2014

~ Tumhain pata hai na? ~

~ Tumhain pata hai na? ~

Main roz raat,
Khidki khuli chorh deti hoon,
Tumhain pata hai na,
Tumhare intezaar mein …
Tum aate ho,
Neend ke paani mein,
Chap chap karte,
Cheente tumhare aane ki,
Palkhen tak bhigo jaati hain …
Khawaab ki parton ko khol,
Sehlati, meri rooh ke farsh ko,
Jugnu si chuan hai tumhari,
Oss si paak, kamsin aur taazi,
Halki mulayam, pyaari si,
Tumhain pata hai na …
Khawaaish tumse milne ki,
Yaaden, tumhari awaaz O alfaazon ki,
Saanson mein basti woh becheni,
Inn choorhiyon ki adhoori se aadhi, khanak,
Phir wahi purana, andhera kona,
Dhoond leti hain,
Chupti, tumse,
Tumhare yahan hone se,
Ki kahin tum unhe dekh,
Koi sawaal na kar baitho …
Jawab nahin hai mere paas,
Kisi bhi sawaal ka,
Na tumhare, na khud ke …
Phir bhi, ye’ ziddi si, dhalti shaam,
Dhoti hai, aankhon ke paani se,
Sukhati hai, gaalon ki chatt pe,
Ek seela sawal … jo tumhain shayad, nahin pata …
‘Tum toh mere ho na,
Phir kyon mere nahin ho?’

Monday, 13 October 2014

~ The lovely, lovely door ... ~

~ The lovely, lovely door … ~
More than ‘just so relic’,
Befitting a Palazzo,
Chiseled out of,
Two hundred (or thousand, if it'd really matter) years old,
Ponderous mahogany,
Heaving life through recent chinks,
Festooned in slits n' cracks,
Painted and pretty well hidden, though …
That with rusted, onerous latch,
But, a new dense silver lock,
Was left open,
Mistakingly, may be (for we never know),
Last night,
By me,
Or, by someone,
Who was leaving the last,
Not such artifact, my tiny abode …
I'm missing,
Since then …
Would you mind telling me,
If … I'm found?

Thursday, 9 October 2014

~ Wayfarer! ~

~ Wayfarer! ~

A sugarless cup,
Of double shot coffee,
Reminds me of your bitterness,
That how you smelt raw, cobalt,
Of a sour, leaden countryside …
Your tongue tasted of metal,
Your eyes, so deep n’ dark,
Fingers as cold as long as the dusted path,
Your skin, remembrance of a lone journey,
Spent in the company of paradoxical larks,
And languorous leaves and barks …
I’ve traveled alone,
On this begrimed country road,
Much far, so far!

~ Milan ki aas mein … ~

Painting Credit : Anonymous

~ Milan ki aas mein … ~
Chun chun ke, bun ke,
Dhaani rang mein khud ko lapeta tha,
Kamar ke paas,
Ek nanhi gaanth mein,
Chaabhi ke gutche sa,
Tum ko sameta tha …
Kal poori raat,
Jab chaand soya tha,
Thakan se taaron ne bhi,
Palkhon ko dhaanka tha,
Tab ek ek karke,
Mogre ke phoolon ki,
Khushboo ko muthi mein bheench kar,
Ussi dhaani pallu ke ek sirre mein,
Nam hothon se maine piroya tha …
Bindiya, hasli, haath ka kadha,
Bichiya, choodhi, kamarbandh,
Ankhon mein angrhayi lete,
Sapne sanjoye do chaar,
Sab ko hi maine,
Sirhaane takiye ke,
Haule haule thapkiyan de kar,
Khoob aas se sulaya tha …
Bhor hote hi uthna tha,
Tum se jo milna tha, pehli baar,
Tum se hi mil jaana tha, iss baar,
Haan tum se milna … Tha ………
Tum phir se rooth gaye ho na?

Monday, 6 October 2014

~ What is it? ~

~ What is it? ~
Dripping from your hair,
Unto your wry bathrobe
Seeping into the pasty tile,
Longings of a long while …
Hanging from the knob,
A hooked crescent mile
Waiting outside the door,
Years, days, made into a pile …
Underneath the other side,
Of the cotton pillowed wile
A strand of pepper hair,
Lying hidden, tweaked off a file …
What is it?
That you don’t talk about …
That when seen in your eyes,
Your forehead cringes,
Into a Facading rile
Breaths heavy to lug in and out,
Skin on arms, too, would vomit goose bumps,
Your fingers squirm though pocketed already by then,
What is it?
Would you ever tell?
I know, even if you won’t, I so know,
What is it all about,
(Sigh) … ‘Just a memory’!
Isn’t it?