Letters

I write letters,
For the smell of ink,
And the touch of parchment,
Withers away a part of my soul,
Brings it warmth sometimes,
The autumn becomes my guard,

I write letters,
For the words carry,
The news of the distant,
And speaks of emotions,
I like to preserve them in my box,
The one I got the day it rained,

I write letters
For I don’t believe,
The words that spill out of mouths,
That change in a second,
Or were they ever true,
They have an impeccable memory,

I write letters,
Of love to the ones I crave,
That took my heart,
And put them back in my chest,
Sunlight sometimes shines on them,
Termites never feast on them,

I write letters,
My body aches for those,
Darkness engulfs it,
And belches them on my bed,
I ain’t proud,
My stomach growls with disgust,

I write letters,
My past and my tomorrow,
Change is inevitable,
Change is necessary,
But the mould, it stays still,
The roots rarely melt,

I seldom write letters,
To myself,
Glory eventually touches their feet,
Those who shine at night,
The day is yet to come,
Some letters still on their way,

And I sometimes read the letters,
Carved in my blood,
Those bring me happiness,
And fly me to the Moon,
I keep them on my desk,
To read them aloud,
Whenever thunder rattles my windows,
And shakes up my house,
They give me power,
Letters of faith and hope,
The love I got,
And the love yet to come,
And I wait,
For I believe,
A letter will reach its spot……

Memory…..

I collect ages in my eyes,
The slow songs Autumn plays,
Whenever this wretched heart of mine,
Weeps for you,
I surreptitiously etch the days of my glory on the veins my father cast in gold,
On himself, the house, the kisses he gave me each night,
For him I am his biggest reward,
He tells me each day,
This mind becomes a grinder of sorts,
Memories that bring me smiles,
Of places, the faces lost and that stayed,
Behemoth it becomes and takes over my body,
Sometimes when I lay in the sand,
The cold water of the ocean washes my feet,
Heals the wounds that kilometres brought me,
The messages that never reached me, 
The things I could never say,
Nature sings a lullaby to me,
I am her son lost to the routine,
I seldom close my eyes,
For I want to become redundant,
Impractical, impatient, ignorant,
As I become weak,
For someone to carry me,
But I beam of sunlights when darkness dissolves my being,
My mother she brought me food that she couldn’t eat,
Bruised and still working till her breath,
I collect everything in my eyes,
My memory rarely eludes me,
The firsts, the birthdays and the lasts,
It’s satanic and angelic,
The two sides of a coin,
And as I creep towards the things still not in shape,
I talk and pull myself together,
My memory becomes my biggest weapon,
And the partner that helps me craft poetries sublime,
Makes me smile again,
Live that moment once again,
And I etch it on paper,
The ink it bleeds for me,
The hues of skies,
That day,
And I become one with myself,
The memories rarely eludes me……

I walk…

Dissolved in the fabric of time,
If you cannot find me,
Or hear my voice,
As I try to build myself from scratch,
Every time a storm ravages my shores,
And renders them inhabitable,
Pieces of my past on display,
For the entire world to see,
Scandalous, blasphemous, indigestible,
Currently rotting, desperate for attention,
Forget me for this is not me,
For I dissolve to create sands,
That travel and perpetuate synthetically,
I lose myself sometimes, most of the times, all the times,
In search for stories a treasure to me,
For I see castles in sand and mountains in air,
My body is my prison,
As it loses to chains that are these expectations,
And cohorts with the malice this mind sometimes breeds in my heart,
Born out of incest, taboo, and what brings me down most of the times,
But I bleed sweat of the color red,
That stains my wounds and covers my bruises,
And fuels the machinery of my legs,
Sometimes sores in my foot,
The scorching earth wasn’t kind,
But I walk and walk and run sometimes,
And I see the sun shining behind the clouds,
That sings of songs in my glory,
My footprints in the mud,
And sand in my eyes,
I walk and walk and run sometimes,
For nobody can stop me except the poison of my thought…..

मैं आऊँगा…..

दीवारों से हारकर जब जब मैं सो जाऊँगा,
तक़दीरों का राग लेके जब रोने लग जाऊँगा,
ढाढ़स बांधने जब चमगादढ़ मेरी आँखें बंद कर जाएँगे,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
क्या हुआ जब धूल पी के हैं सींचे इसे रंग लाल,
मिट्टी का हूँ तो दिखता हूँ,
हवा में उड़ जाते पंख,
क्या फ़र्क खून मैं मेरे या जो पसीना है लाल,
है नहीं डूबा सका समंदर भी जो अटल मेरा मत्था,
लोहे का दिल लेके अक्सर मैंने दर्द पिया,
ना जाने कहाँ टूट गयी थी चप्पल अब नंगा मेरा ये पाँव,
है देख चुका सारा संसार हर जगह मेरे निशान,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
तो क्या हुया जो मिल गया खो गया नाम-ओ-निशान,
इक्का दुक्का करके इकट्ठा मैं फ़िर से जुड़ जाऊँगा,
घुटन से जब भर जाएगा मेरा आसमाँ,
हो रात काली और दिन भी साँवला,
डूब रही हो सारी आस,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,

तुम मत आना….

तुम मत आना,
की अँधेरों से झूझ रहा है ज़मीर उनका,
आशाओं का गला घोंट के,
की उनकी होती है सुबह हर पहर,
तुम मत आना,
की सहम जाता हूँ मैं भी,
अख़बार में जब दम तोड़ती है,
बच्ची किसी की,
शायद माँ, शायद पत्नी किसी की,
ग़ुस्सा भर जाता है इस बेजान से बदन में मेरे भी,
जब नहीं उड़ पाती तुम,
आसमान किसी के बाप का नहीं,
चाहूँगा तो मैं तुम्हें शायद किसी और से ज़्यादा,
जब अगर आओगी तुम घर में मेरे,
अपनी नन्ही उँगलियों से जब थाम लोगी मेरे सपने,
और जब पुकारोगी मेरा नाम,
उस मीठी सी आवाज़ में,
मैं दौड़ा चला आऊँगा,
नहीं रोक पाएँगी सरहदें भी मुझे,
पर तुम मत आना,
की शायद सुबह होगी कभी तो,
और देख सकेंगे ये ज़लील,
की तुम मिलती हो ख़ुशनसीबी से,
की इस शरीर से आगे सृष्टि है तुम्हारी,
मैं तब तक सुधारूँगा खुद को भी,
शायद कुछ आस पास के लोग भी,
तुम तब तक मत आना,
की रात अभी है काली…..

My first love…..

My mother lives in a dream,
Everyday she wakes up,
She watches me run for her ankles,
For they bleed of her smiles,
That she lost while bringing food for me,
Only to create castles in stone,
The foundation of which her desires,
I will always be her prince,
The one true worthy of her love magnanimous,
But I sometime wake up,
From slumbers of years,
The inertia that pulls me down,
And growls at me when I wear my shoes,
I work with all the force thats left in me,
For I want her smile never to fade,
And widen with each passing day,
She will be the first love,
Always be and till the eternities,
Till I can remember,
And do the stars,
The castle she etched in stone,
And the dreams she cast in thrones…..

My eyes shall always see,
The hero of my dreams,
The one that carried me in his arms,
And took me to places high,
I rode his shoulders,
And sometimes his heels,
I was his princess and will always be,
He brought me daisies, tea pots and ponies of wood,
The little escapades away from the school,
And cried when my heart broke alongwith the doll,
He carried me and my dreams,
On his shoulders wider than the world,
He will be my love the first,
The one who could never break my heart…..

For a boy his mother is and will always be his first love. The one who understood him even before he could say anything. She cared for him when he wasn’t easy and when he might have taken her for granted. No one can replace that position. A mother will never ask anything in return. Just a smile and her day is made.

For a girl, her father is and will always be her first love, her hero, her prince charming. She will always measure the amount of love that she gets from the world by how her father portrayed for her. No one can love a girl more than her father because he never expected anything from her.

From my experience, if both the partners can understand this simple fact, life would be so much easier for them. A girl can never take the place of her partner’s mother and a boy can never love a girl the way her father did. They can only try to replicate what they get from each other and if one is lucky, maybe she gets a man raised by a queen and he gets a girl honed by a lion. Just respecting, taking each other’s parents as their own will do the trick. Together they write the perfect love story, imperfect though perfect. Loyalty comes from both ways and it stays if we work for it, put in effort, sometimes easy as saying that I love you and sometimes difficult when the real, true face without any masks, any mascara, uncensored, real comes knocking you out. But we stay, for our mothers and fathers taught us, good things come when you work for them. Rome wasn’t built in a day….

Me with my mother..

Demons…

I don’t need words,
For words sometimes betray the meaning,
My inhibitions carry in their belly,
Mixed with scenes of confusion,
They belch out my insecurities among people,
That pretend to know me,
And mock the serenity that seldom touches my chest,
I would for a moment want the coherence of my mind with my body,
My fingers shake as they kiss the paper,
Drenched in sweat of my vulnerabilities,
The slow poison that visits me at night,
Sometimes even in the light of day,
And I put on a mask,
A suit perfect,
Bvlgari in my neck and wrists,
I face my demons,
For they are my very own…..

Speak out

Talk to me and speak out,
I see rivers as they are,
And the valleys that deepen,
For I’ll be the same for you,
Clear as sky,
And smooth as the Gin,
The strings that pull us,
Together sometimes,
Might break us apart,
If they aren’t plucked often,
For they lose their tension,
And maintain status quo,
Communication is the key,
To the already thick padlock of emotions,
We keep buried inside ourselves,
For the world to see us brave,
Stronger than the rock,
I promise I’ll be weak for you,
Spill the beans of things that go wrong,
Or the ones that gives me wings,
For I want you to stay forever,
With me in my arms,
Talk to me and speak out,
As I listen and maybe smile or cry along….

Accelerate…

I put my car in sixth gear,
Engine screaming at its peak,
The wind desperate to get inside the cabin,
Hissing past every speed-alert,
I know it’s unsafe,
Driving recklessly,
On a highway that doesn’t go anywhere,
Had some exits many kilometres back,
My muscles, they stay locked in position,
For they think they have control,
My body rolls with every turn,
Every speed breaker, pothole that comes my way,
And as my car blinks for the fuel that isn’t enough,
I release my foot off the accelerator,
Slowing down, looking at the grasslands,
Admiring the beauty that didn’t ever stumble upon me,
A small bump comes up on the highway,
My senses come back to me,
And I accelerate,
For one last time…..

जाम….

मत पूछो ये हाल मेरा,
है थामा ऐसा जाम मैंने,
की सच बोल गया तो,
उतर जाएँगे ये चेहरे सुनहरे,
आज चुप हूँ तो शायद देख रहे हो तुम भी,
कल जो बोल पड़ा इस मेहफ़िल में तुम्हारी,
फिर कहाँ छुपाओगे वो दाग गहरे…..

Do not ask for how I am,
My glass holds a wine dear,
This mouth if calls a name true,
Shine will shy away from faces white,
You look at me for I am mum,
My lips if will spill the secrets in your gala spectacular,
Scars will follow till the memories testify….

Hold on…..

As I lay down in my bed,
My head spinning faster than the clock,
The ceiling mocks me, Jibes at me,
Dust falling on my forehead,
The posters hung on my wall,
And pictures of places I’ve been to,
People that stayed,
And those moved on,
Sigh for they know what helplessness does to you,
How attachment breeds forests that catch fire,
On the slightest getaway,
It too flutters some words through cracks on itself,
Stories that remind me of earthquakes brutal,
When rain came inside my room,
And the bed turned to a trench,
Like a sinking pothole without a bottom,
Layers of humus covering my head,
Mushrooms on my skin,
The walls sometimes cave down on me,
As anxiety kicks in,
Or maybe something stranger to me,
The person in the mirror a stranger to me,
I detest this stranger,
Sometimes want to embrace him,
Let him cry on my shoulder,
As I listen, nod sometimes, maybe give a cup of tea,
For something to hold on to,
As night engulfs the room,
And dogs howl at night,
The mind numbs, wants to sleep,
I try to close my eyes,
The spinning stops somedays,
And the throat of the ceiling dries away,
My bed becomes hard like the forest floor,
The skin grows roots,
And I hold on,
For the Sun is few hours away…..

Neon Signs….

Neon signs and shady lanes,
Money exchanging hands,
Through bodies of remorse,
Empty stomachs, pale eyes,
The Mistress of inebriety,
Dancing to the tunes of helplessness,
Addiction, hopes or desire of clear skies,
Its the streets like these that breeds the sewage,
The opulent sometimes like to think so,
As the rotting sight of flesh and skin disgusts them,
For they have hearts of glass,
That break on sights of the Sun rising over Mars,
And their veins burst with blood green,
The days are merciful to these streets,
As light brings them hope,
Shuns away despair and the gobbling eyes,
For no one wants to be recognised in places such as these,
Love springs as the neon signs turn off,
And the routine, the one accepted starts,
Driver, receptionist or a student struggling to study,
Their sky is often red,
Chewed, mulched and spewn on streets like these,
They breathe the same air,
Sometimes eat the food as ours,
Blue collar or a collar white,
Their money is often tainted,
Or it appears so,
The night as it comes again to these streets,
Dressed in make-up bad,
Clothes cheap,
They venture to the streets,
As the neon signs light their way,
And sobriety shies away…..

Memory….

Drifting aimlessly through furrows of my past,
If someday I get lost,
Call my name with all the love you got,
For anything less wouldn’t reach my heart,
Breathe the winds slowly and moist,
The warmth will drive the frost away,
And sing me lullabies as I become deaf,
Melodies mixed with a tumbler of blood,
The dry veins and the sunken lungs,
I will if not today reach you someday,
Feet burning, stubble in a disarray,
The rivers, they carry my body,
Tries to sink but stays afloat,
I will if not today see you someday,
Meet you over plantations of coffee,
To bury the scents of my crimes,
Take my hand, do not refuse,
And guide me to the lights supreme,
For I am lost or will be soon,
Is it today or tomorrow or a year ago,
I will find you someday,
Lest my memory doesn’t betray…..

Dam

For centuries the dam had held in the water,
Standing tall, Majestic, Strong,
The storm came with pebbles small,
And struck the dam in ways unimaginable,
Water now above its flood point,
As she struck him with a smirk obscure,
Sluice gates to his heart opened,
Villages destroyed on the way down,
Cracked at places the dam went weak,
For small lavenders grew in its crevices,
The storm, she filled his reservoirs,
With waters of seven heavens,
His senses, mind, consciousness,
All went numb,
As he tried to close the gates to the dam,
He forgot he had any control…..

Happiness….

Happiness comes easy to me,
The wind in my face,
The fragrance of the food,
Slow songs that make me wanna Waltz,
Driving on roads,
Nowhere to go,
For sometimes I wear a mask,
To hide my hideousness,
Disgusting even for me,
The claws that bury deep in my skin,
Blood clotted and flows again, 
When I see the stars my eyes sparkle,
Gravity doesn’t pull them down,
They support planets,
I see birds that chase,
Dreams they see,
The food for mind, body and heart,
And I smile as the Sun comes up,
For it lights the day,
The Sunflowers kiss him each day,
I sometimes take off my mask,
And shred off the skin,
Burnt from the pathos of time,
Look in the mirror sometimes,
To unclutter my hair,
And I smile for me, 
For nobody else, 
And do not disguise the scars on my face,
For they are my very own, 
The lips seldom cheer up,
The cheeks laugh, 
I smile for me,
And for nobody else,
Happiness comes easy to me,
Like an endless freefall……..

Mould….

Walking alone on the untrodden path,
Sometimes you may come across some like you,
Similar to you or maybe poles apart,
They might hold your hands,
Or will let you go,
As you continue to walk on the path new,
Unfamiliar, scary sometimes,
Full of flowers or thorns on the way,
Sometimes you’ll bleed with the world at your call,
Or in the dark of the night,
When not a soul is visible,
You’ll laugh with your loved ones,
The ones those warm your heart,
And soothes your soul,
Or sob in the rain,
Hiding your vulnerabilities from the world,
For the world doesn’t deserve you,
You’ll think as they walk past you,
Laughing, mocking, Jibes thrown at you,
It will be hard sometimes,
The crippling pain of responsibilities,
Expectations, mistaken choices,
The past pulls you,
The future pushes you,
The present runs for your life,
Nothing seems right,
As your world slowly diminishes to your room,
Or even the penumbra of your being,
Slowly that tries to vanish,
Assimilate into the void,
Close your eyes,
Sit on the side of the path,
Absorb the sounds inside that speak to you,
Paint, Sing, Write, Dance,
Your creativity is your biggest friend in times like these,
It goes to sleep while you absolve yourself in the routine,
And comes to you when you let it wake up,
Do something for yourself,
Something you might never show the world,
For the untrodden path becomes difficult sometimes,
Its their nature,
For journeys like these make Kings,
Queens and Memories that write their own stories,
As you burn yourselves in the foundry of routine,
A mould you’ll create over the times,
And fill it with your hopes and ambitions,
A butterfly will come out,
And the mould will break,
The Mould will surely break
And the path will take you home,
Where your tribe resides,
The mind and heart at last,
In sync…….

Void

When silences speak for the void in between,
Sound loses its worth,
Presence, absence, today or tomorrow,
Incompetent they become…..

ख़ामोशी जब बयान करती है शून्य को कभी,
आवाज़ खो देती है अपना आयाम,
होना, ना होना, आज, कल,
अक्षम हो जाते हैं सब……