It was made of tin….

Slowly slowly it pierced my skin,
Layer by layer and I was naked,
It hurt even less as it went deeper,
The ghosts of my past,
Mistakes, failures and all that unfelt,
I had a frame that never was empty,
A photo, a memory maybe an year,
That day I cried, the day I laughed,
Everything passes, everything has a lifetime,
And it reached my veins,
Those were clogged,
Years of thirst and all that despair,
The dreams unrealised,
The desires killed in their sleeping pram,
It was a tough escape,
But maybe it was made of tin,
It crossed the landscape of my chest,
The burden of those secrets,
The faces unknown,
Followed the path,
Wretched and weak,
That lead to a something,
That hadn’t lost a beat,
Knocked on its doors,
And asked to come in,
Go away, I am a mess,
Somebody had cried and it wasn’t in a bliss,
I come to see you, oh my dear,
Open thy gates,
Let me in,
Who are you, what do you need,
I am a known, you smeared off your list,
And as it opened, my heart its doors,
Saw a creature it hadn’t seen at all,
It smiled and sang a song,
Took him on a flight and showed him the clouds,
Then took him to a house that laughed,
A platter was sufficient for them all,
A veteran that had lost an arm,
Who put up against that hulk of a man,
And the child that hadn’t lost his innocence,
The mother that laughed with her husband,
It jumped in joy and laughed aloud,
The path had grown some many new towns,
Where were you for all this time,
I was alone and in a decline,
I come in need and not in excess,
To those who seek sometimes my bless,
Let me guide you to someplace nice,
Show you the path and be gone for the time,
Stay, please stay for sometime more,
The heart had pleaded,
I’ll be dead when you’ll be gone,
You shall live in the stricken of times,
Or when you’ll fall, I’ll be there,
But I shall go, I am needed somehwere else,
Tell me your name so I may embed,
I am hope and he went on his way…..

कभी आना….

कभी रोशनी बन कर आना तुम,

अंधेरे तो ज़िन्दगी ने बहुत दिए,

आसमान बन कर आना तुम,

दिलासे तो ज़िन्दगी ने बहुत दिए…….

Tasveer

कुछ बात है इन पुरानी पड़ी तस्वीरों में,
वक़्त को थामना सीख लिया है इन्होंने,
वरना क्या मजाल थी यादों की वो पुरानी,
हर तस्वीर जो बता जाती है,
एक चार बाई चार के कागज़ से…….

There is something in these photos,

That lay besides me here,

They have learnt to hold the sands of time,

Memories are powerless even where,

A 4 by 4 photo that brings back to you……

Where are you?

Dear Miss yet to come,

How are you? It’s been a long time since I wrote to you. Seasons have changed, the birds have flown from their nests, the old dilapidated house at the corner, remember? That couldn’t stand longer. It fell down. Everything’s been fine with me lately and I hope with you too. But we are too humans and as humans and the perfect law of nature, we change.

I don’t know why there is this feeling inside me that’s not letting me do anything. Usually it doesn’t make its presence felt. But when it does, I find sadness in almost anything. And you know how I rarely get sad, a little too emotional yes but rarely sad. Even the guitar lying next to me doesn’t inspire me to play it and get over it, the writing pad too, just growls at me with this I don’t know, a face that just doesn’t seem friendly. I sometimes wonder what it would feel like to share with you all this in person when you are lying along me in the open sky and wondering why the stars fall, who holds the moon up in the sky, why does a doughnut have a hole, or maybe why our hearts beat so slow when we are together. Remember the day, when you were sad about something that you didn’t remember. It’s something like that. The funny thing about it is that, how much I try to avoid it, it just comes bouncing back. The only thing sometimes I need is a your touch and not just physical, the intimacy we shared, mind, space and later the body that really was just another tune that we together create. I don’t know what’s difficult. Waiting for you or this thought that there is somewhere you as well, maybe waiting for me. Or have you found someone too good……

I wish you have that palm for me so that I may fill it with sometimes my hand, the flowers that your body absorbs so spectacularly or maybe sometimes this universe, our universe, our little world….

Waiting for you….

With lots of love.

Kumar Harsh