मदहोशी

कुछ तो होगा शायद,
की बिखर के भी मैं टूटता नहीं,
है कहीं तो ज़ोर बाक़ी,
कहीं कोई कतरा शायद हार मानने को त्यार नहीं,
तुम ज़ुल्म करते हो,
मैं साँस लेता हूँ,
कमबख़्त ये दिमाग़ ही है जिसने बचा रखा,
वरना मदहोशी में ए दिल तूने तो अब तक मेरा असमान ही जलाना था…..

Consequences

I suffer from consequences of decisions,
Small or big,
Taken earlier or later or today,
For they bring a certain miscalculation,
In my course that I very comfortably set,
A dilemma I clearly face,
To easily let it pass,
Or let it ruin my day,
Months or years,
It’s funny how often I resort to a decision,
The later and usually the hardest,
Like weeping over set Sun,
And the rain that fell yesterday…..

Each day

I see faces down with the work of yesterday,
The faces tired and anguished,
Dirt lay still and has made mounds on them,
Living but dealing with canyons that haven’t touched in eternities,
For One sees reflections of oneself,
Their inner beings around them as they traverse,
Tread over boulders big and small,
Life as we see and life as we believe,
Changes meaning every other second,
And every other passing of day,
For life is simple,
Simple as water dropping down a stalactite,
For years and years until it forms another similar being like themselves,
Life has meanings in times like these,
Times of everyday,
Each day…..

Crescendo…..

I see stars embedded in my palm,
For they shimmer in the night,
When the Moon is far,
And the wolves howl through the dark,
They bring me peace sometimes,
Calm down my palpitating heart,
Or burn through my skin,
Scars that stay forever,
Under the epidermis like a brand of destitution,
A tattoo of obligation, nothing to be proud of,
I try to stay true to my roots,
For they bring me cold water,
Quench my thirst and bury my lavishness,
By the fertile mud of my ancestors land,
That grows a tree inside my mind,
A tree that extends over centuries,
And bears fruits for generations,
Sometimes golden and burnt,
And yellow and red,
For I see stars and how they burn,
And I tell my self to shine like the Omega and the Alpha,
But wait and rest and sleep and recharge,
Whenever they burn through my skin,
And visit my roots more than often,
The stars of my distant crescendo…..

Cupid

I see small, minuscule pieces of myself,
Scattered over the glazed floors,
White marble on the roofs of euphoria,
A little over there and little beyond the cracks,
As sunlight burns some pieces,
The rain washes some,
The storm dirties them yet again,
And the autumn helps them shed their skin,
For a belief that stays with me,
On days when people walk over me,
And behemoth crushes my vision,
I will see you,
One day, beyond these days that have been altering me,
The course, rough edges that belittle into a perfect circle,
And bring me warmth and peace written somewhere in the myths,
Like Cupid and Psyche,
Forever and beyond,
A happy ever after…..

Silver lining

My voice echoes in darkness,
For the plethora of my nuisances play folly,
As my head and my mind stop being in sync,
To follow the unruly practice of harming itself,
I breathe and breathe through crevices made of burnt rubber,
And I indulge in sin of desires,
It’s reverberation of my methodic insignia,
The need of gasping for air,
That I see through tinted windows,
And make myself believe,
There’s a silver lining to every cloud……..

Real

I slowly walk towards you,
Following your footsteps,
Etched on pathways golden,
Petite, almost unnoticeable,
And follow your scent among all the unknowns,
For it takes a century of being,
To see what it is like to be a speck,
Amidst the dust that gathers on a runaway cloth,
I see you while darkness turns me upside down,
And inside out,
My fall and my rise,
My imagination almost running thin,
My ink that doesn’t spill,
They all ask one thing,
When would you be real?

Struggle

My day starts as the colossal struggle between my mind and my heart ends,
As I struggle, exerting every vein in my body,
A pain arises somewhere beneath my skin,
Gravitating through my toes and my fingertips and the little wrinkles that rest on my body,
For the day is new and the night shall be here soon,
I gather them all, my angels and my demons,
And I open my eyes,
For the day is new and the night shall be here soon……

Arms

I sleep with arms wide open,
For the air feels thin at nights,
When I am all alone on my bed,
That knows when I sleep,
When I wake up from nightmares that crawl over me,
As a realisation dawns upon me,
The bed is magnanimous for someone as timid as me,
I yearn for warmth that my sheets shall never provide,
The sound of rhythmic waves,
I turn on my speakers in nights like these,
For silence keeps me up,
And my bed pulls me down,
A crisis of the century,
An affair that must end,
Before I perish,
Or these arms through which blood still flows……

I write….

A pain radiates from my ribs,
Slow to move, hard to touch,
The one my ghosts speak in days of my penury,
The cracks in my skin,
Ripples in my heart,
The pain usually subsides,
As Sunrises and Sunsets paint my room,
Over mountains ancient and over the clouds new,
Inches away from my bed I herewith reach for my pen,
Tuck neatly within pages of the old annals,
I sometimes write with my hands folded,
And sometimes with eyes that see beyond the stars,
For a pain that radiates sometimes through my umbra,
And onto the ink that fills my pen,
My words the lover, an affair of the century,
I write, I write, I write…..

New beginnings……

I rummage through the graveyard of dreams,
The lost desires and the will to see,
For sometimes I walk over puddles deep,
That source through my devils oh so grim,
The substances that had once belonged mine,
Determination, perseverance and that stubborn grit,
Sitting there idle gambling over the coffin of my skies,
I squat with them, shake hands and bulge them to take up their arms,
As I pick up mine,
For the world is mine and it is mine to see,
The roads traveled and the paths untrodden still,
My voices dumb and mute and unsound,
The frequencies lost in the shriek of the crowds,
For I shall shout and talk aloud,
The bastille of my insecurities shall break,
And bring back the silver in the skies,
And I shall see and see afar,
Farther than the fog and farther than the Equinox,
Till I can see thy self and say it aloud,
It was all worth it, the scars on my arms………

With this post I would like to inform you, my fellow writers of something that is really important to me. Another step towards my career. I have been selected as an inspector in the Customs and Excise Department, Government of India and will be serving the nation towards achieving a better taxation compliance and inclusion of better taxation literacy.

All of you have been really supportive to me and like an extended family that I’ve grown to know for the past 7 years since I had started blogging.

I thank you all for showing me the continued support and guiding me whenever I was lost.

This post is dedicated to all of you 😇😇😇

Thank you

बस आज

तो क्या हुआ जो आसमाँ आज साफ़ नही,
हवाओं में कुछ गुमशुदा सा है,
कुछ भीगी भीगी सी आस है,
मद्धम सी चल रही नदियाँ हैं,

तो क्या हुआ नींद नहीं आ रही है,
करवटें बदल बदल के तुमने जो रातें काटी हैं,
ना रात गुज़र रही है,
सूरज जैसे कहीं छुपा सा है,

तो क्या हुआ जो रास्ते उलझे उलझे से,
शक के धुएँ में मंज़िल नज़र नहीं आती है,
मैं किस और जाऊँ,
क्या यही मेरी राह गुज़र है,

मैं सोचता सब हूँ,
सोचता शायद कुछ भी नहीं,
एक ख़याल ज़रूर आज आया है,
तो क्या हुआ जो नहीं मैं जो होना था,
जो हूँ शायद नहीं भी होता,
मगर यह ख़याल आज जाने दे,
की आज मैं मुझमें कुछ रहना चाहता हूँ,
की आज बस सोना चाहता हूँ…….

A regular man

I am a regular man,
Who feels the wind on his face,
The cold soft breeze,
Hot and thorny sometimes,
For I see through small viscera,
The fabric of time,
The minuscule, timid that intimidates me sometimes,
As I lay down to relax,
On my bed, my abode,
But I am a regular man,
That sleeps sometimes through the terrible storms,
And sometimes pick up a hammer to nail the wriggling seasoned doors on my facia,
Nothing much to hide,
Not much to show,
A plaid, straight old rhythm,
Somewhat like the Beethoven’s Für Elise,
Regular, easy….

Melamine….

I fall down the stairs of melamine,
Slippery on the way down,
That broached of a feline capacity,
Something sticky, made if to fail,
It calls me by name sometimes,
And grabs my hands the other,
The fake, forged feeling of warmth,
I seek in the living that sometimes touch me,
My eyes close seldom,
For they wish that this was over,
A peace they want,
Not something described in words,
A feeling of dancing lilies on the forehead,
The slow breaths of your love,
What more can one desire,
The fall usually never leaves much to imagination……

Carnations

A flower slowly that hugs the air,
Opening up its petal for the outside world,
A melody that catches ears adrift,
And makes them wonder the soil it stands in,
Clenching the little pebbles like the hands of a newborn,
Its almost miraculous that nothingness creates something spectacular,
Out of things extraordinary,
That mingle around the dust settled,
A similar kind of love,
A man brings for his woman,
Sweet, discrete, wrapped in layers of lavender,
That slowly unravel and fills the air with fragrances eternal,
He holds her hands with the utmost sincerity,
Gentle and firm like the tendrils of Fuchsia,
How hard a man can love,
They are quick to ask,
Just like the oysters buried in the sand,
They bear pearls spectacular,
It kills them to love her,
They rejoice as she comes out pristine,
For the world to see,
Admire and fall in love,
He lies on the ground motionless,
For his love is complete,
For the world to see,
A man loves discretely,
Just like the air that hugs a flower slowly,
Its fragrance that travels around the globe,
Like carnations in the sea……..

One Step at a time….

I shiver with the cold incense,
Sometimes that light up my petite insecurities,
Brewed slowly inside of me,
In places secluded from the obvious world,
And tether me onto a thread minuscule,
Almost invisible,
It becomes a daily conundrum,
The blanket doesn’t warm me anymore,
And the fan spews spitfire,
I drift steadily,
Sometimes away and the other to,
The goal I had seen in times ancient,
My timelines still blurred,
Although I move, capture and achieve,
One step at a time……

The little ant…

This little ant was the inspiration for the above poem. I captured this one as I was sitting in my garden, trying to admire the little things in life…..

Coin

I sip slowly,
For my mind is a catharsis of the fast,
Purging with the intense music,
It sometimes hear,
Up in flames,
Or the mask of entitlement,
It bears fruits drugged with immaculate perfection,
That bereft my senses of their glory,
Same as the wind that sometimes settle,
After a storm,
Aren’t destruction and construction the same sides of a coin………..??