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सकरात की शाम

आती होगी ना उनको भी अपनें कटी पतंगों कि यादें जो उड़ गयी क्षितिज में और फिर न लौट आएंगे उन पतंगों की यादें। मुझको तो है याद मेरे दोस्त वो बत्तीस रुपैये कि लटाई वो मांझे की सरसराहट और हाथों में तुम्हारे नए लाल हरे चूड़ियों की खनखनाहट। चलो एक बार फिर मिल पतंग उड़ाएं तुम चकरी संभालो और हम ढील लगाएं इसी बहाने हम और तुम सुनहरे आसमानों से हो घुलमिल फिर संक्रांति मनाएं।

If you had loved me...

If you had loved me, Half as much as I love you, That would have been quite intolerable, Even to myself. If you had ever looked at me, with the intensity Of my hungry stares, I would have probably felt My soul clench within My migrant heart as well. There ought to be no justice In love As in life And as in life A poetic pause Need not always precede The sullen cry Of the unloved.

To the Years that are yet to Come

In the long innings of this life, we are like the stage where the drama unravels. The Plays change, the players too come and go. The audience is like the river of time that runs through us. There are bright lights and wonderful stories and some stories that run to empty seats. Whatever be your story this coming year, pray don't be enamoured by it, nor be bogged down. These are just stories. Stories change. But life as it is, is lived forever between the shows and the silences that follow when the curtains come down. You are the stage. While you may have a little say in the stories that play out in your life, I hope you learn to enjoy the successful ones, and forgive, or forget, or do both, to the ones that never really took off. This is not a new year wish. It is what I wish for you, every year of your life and for the lifetimes that are yet to come. Happy All Years.

Suddenly

It was not planned. It was a government office. A private sector bank representative was called in for some support. The person was supposed to come by 10. It was already 12. I was busy on my laptop. Three others in the room were busy in their own works. And then the door opened and she walked in. Just like that. 24 years of thinking about her, and she just walks in. It were as if there was a tear in the fabric of my universe, and she just appeared out of nowhere. We talked like two perfect strangers. If she recognized me, she gave me no indication of that. I wanted to hug her across the table. But that was not why we met. Later, as we said goodbye and she crossed the busy road, my heart leaped at the familiarity of it all. All these years, and she still jump walked!

Did you think of me just then?

It was a long day. Just like any other of my dogged working days. There was nothing in it that stood out. As my fingers worked on the keyboard, I could feel the words on my display suddenly blur. A shroud like silence stealthily climbed over me, surrounded me. The laughter at the workplace dimmed, the phones lost their ring. First the words of what I typed and then the screen fogged out. I found my hands quickly moving to cover my eyes, as if hurriedly cleaning them of some imaginary fruitfly. And as they misted over, I could feel the warm rush of my tears welling over. I looked around, and found that the other bay was empty. Thank God for small mercies, I thought, as you, suddenly, without notice, and without tact, deluged me, again. As I slowly tried to crumple myself into a discarded page of my poems, I found the whiteness of my handkerchief funny. I remember I had used one of these to tie your toes once. And as the tears fell without restraints, I  allowed myself to slowly and ge

Separation

I have worked on many scenarios in my mind. None of the scenarios actually ended up with I having you in my life. The glaciers will have to melt someday, and so you will say. The ocean floors have to heave now and then, sending unforgiving waves crashing on to unsuspecting lives. Gravity, you would say, is the glue that joins parallel universes. And universes keep falling into each other all the time. Time is fluid. It is not a linear variable. Time is a different thing to a fruitfly and to a child on her winter holiday. I have explored all your definitions. Not one defines closely, how it will be, when you are no longer with me.

Death and Rebirth

I have looked far into the winter mist. At the heart of its cold grey despair, I have found shimmering undercurrents of hope. This winter derives it's darkness from my longing for you . With the first flush of my unbeing, you will be born again. Allow me this death for I need you to be reborn.