I Long for it

I Long for it

Your allure, with that animal magnetism, 

Your appeal, with that attractiveness, leaves me captivated 

With bated breath, I feel the charisma, enchanted. 

I am fascinated, I swirl around this force field, its magic! 

I am seduced to this magnetism 

you practice witchery, this attraction; 

This attraction is surely a work of a witch! 

the delightfulness, of holding you close, the desirability, and the sweetness of it, 

how I long for it!

Your unsaid lines

Your Unsaid Lines

The sadness it bears, your unsaid lines,
the unshaken certainty that devour,
the sadness of it,
it is expressed, yet still unexpressed.
I feel the sadness, its me, I could shed your tear, I know.
I felt the sadness of it. I am aware, whether you believe it.

Where was solace?
Belongingness?
Was it lost?
Was it shelved?
Is it out of reach?
Where is it?
Is it untouchable?

Longing for a significance of this, is me.
Longing for a comfort is me.
Longing to be a sage in me, dying to unravel is me, longing that you don't feel this penance, is me. 

Longing n fearing, n yet confident, of not letting you feel depressed, is me.

Mystically, beholding the truth,
the naked truth.
How do I find it here,
is the quest.
Is still me.

Asking for trust, is me.
An overwhelming believing, of u, is in me.
To comfort, is me.
Trust me, its me.
Magically, u, are so already so much me.
Magically, what u endure, is so much me.
I can't hurt, its me. I feel you. Its just me.
 

Few short poems 'Aazaadi'

FEW DIFF SHORT PIECES AAZAADI'

______________________

MERI AAZAADI KYON NAHIN

Jashn-e-aazadi, shauk-e-zindagi to nahin

ya kahen ise jashn-e-tanhaee ka koee aalam; 

kaheen yeh humari muflisi to nahin

...

isi majlisii-hukumat mein, ise charagaar mein, 

Ye dasht mein bujhti koi charaag to nahin..

ye Badkaari aur bad-amli ke yeh aalam; 

yahan kahin koi aas, koi aasra bhi hai bhi ya nahin

Be-dastoor is zindagi mein koi roshni kyon nahin

Koi aazadi kyon nahin, meri aazadi kyon nahin

_____________________________________________

ONLY THE LIBERATED

Only the dead

not us

only the liberated

not us

...not the lucky few

not us 

only the dead

not us

only the blessed 

not us

its only them

not us. 

We ain't free. Chained and maimed, slaved, we ain't free. 

Oppressed, arm-twisted, forgotten, we ain't free. 

May The voice be one.

I may not be free, but I'll die to be free.

My thoughts shall forever be free

We ain't free. Chained and maimed, slaved, we ain't free.

oppressed, arm-twisted, forgotten, we ain't free.

Belied, dusted, yet undefeated.

Crushed aside, pulped, yet undeterred.

Wailing, screaming, ripped, yet unconquered.

Fear psychosis, tortured, abused, orphaned, yet to be won.

May The voice be one.

I may not be free, but I'll die to be free.

My thoughts shall forever be free

_______________

'BLIND' PATRIOT

Figuring the differences, I know not

Raising the questions, I know not

Fueling the protests, I know not

Believing the tensions, I know not

I am a patriot, I know nothing else

National interests, I know nothing else

Agreeing, I know nothing else

Blind, I see nothing else.

_________________

MOSQUITO's FREEDOM

Misses n chances the tale begins 

which to leave out, which to believe 

sign posts n the door, which one to leave 

thoughts n wishes, which one to conceive 

bring-forth disillusionment 

bring procrastination 

bring glasses, n bring efforts to break 'em 

bring an animal, bring it to butcher 

bring loathe n despair 

bring me some life, lemme take 'em. 

You are a mosquito, I snapped your life.

___________________

SYAH KAALAA

Waqt karta jo wafa, Kashmiriyat, insaniyat, wo ek milkiyat hote

wo jo pak hai, na hind 'au musalmaan hai, wo hum sub ke hote

Kahin Rangrezon kee koi aise hi haunsle to na badhte

tere aaansun ke katre, kamaskam surh-au lal to na hote

ab 'gar nagawara guzre, to sahi, muflisi huqumat hai

na chahte hue bhi, wo bezubaan 'humaare hai'

na gair hote hue bhi, jo be-gairat hai, 

jirah ke faasle aur faisle, sub humaare hai

ye taqraar kee jamuriyat, ye bhi 'humaari hai'

jo na kar sake, saare daaman humare hai

taareekh au tawajjoh, ye bhi humaare hai

jo guzre, syah, kaala, sab humaare hai

Shanti - a small story

Shanti*¹

She knew why it happened, she knew why she had committed suicide, and she could understand why the post mortem report said there was an unborn foetus.

She could understand why everyone at the tola*² was raging, yet she could not fully comprehend why. After all she was only 15.

She knew Mala*³ when she was a child. A year or two elder to her, Mala lived next door. They played all their games together. She learnt all the household chores by watching her, her mother never had to worry about that; and Shanti, in her childish pride, was always proud that she came to know about menstruation without even gaining puberty.

The tola knew the two as a company. And now the curious neighbours and her mother wanted to know, who Mala was sleeping with, and Shanti; she did not know how to answer. She was scared and grieved and did not know what to say.

She couldn’t say a thing. She was numb – with fear, terror and her loss. What happened is something she so easily could have narrated, but would they believe her, would they not condemn her. How can she speak out, get the burden out of her soul, without being castigated. Without being hurt?

She had just lost Mala, the one she knew was her only friend, they knew each other’s secret, and they both were afraid then, and now she was gone, forever. Alone, what can she do now, how can she speak out. Who does she turn to?

She just heard her father screaming outside to her mother – and knew anytime he would unleash his terror at home – to her mother and to her, God only knows what all he would do.

‘Your daughter has brought this misery home, she is a curse, and you are the culprit, you brought her to this world, you bitch, why did you give birth to this wicked girl? Eh? What do I say to them now, tell me’, he yelled!

Mother merely said, ‘Shanti is not telling me anything, she is crying herself, I don’t know...’

She then heard a loud noise and a thump and then her mother’s cries, she knew her mother was being beaten up, she wanted to tell her father, but right now she had no courage, she had no courage to say a word.

But her father had already entered their only room, where she was crying, inconsolably, her father picked her up from the ground where she was sitting, picked her up in the air, and dropped her. With a thud she fell to the ground, and did not know how to react. Then her father picked up a kerosene bottle, poured it over her and said, ‘tell me the truth or I will burn you alive’.

Hearing this, her mother came to the room, jumped over the girl and said ‘if she has to die, kill us both, what you are doing! You will be punished for something you never did, that girl did not die because of you, and by killing us, no one, not the culprit; but you will go to jail for our murder. Spare us. We haven’t done anything. WE have not brought any disrepute to anyone. Our family’s name is intact. Tell him Shanti, have you brought any disrepute to the family’s name? Tell him now or I will ask your father to burn you alive, now!’

To which Shanti simply nodded – No.

She was terrified; she was not terrified of anything like this ever before, her own father was willing to kill her and her mother even supported him. She wasn’t this afraid even when that thing had happened to her then.

*¹Shanti literally means Peace, also a common Hindu name for girls in India

*²Tola means a hamlet, here it means a hamlet of the most downtrodden, hitherto untouchable castes, although that is long illegal, it is still uncommon for upper caste Indians (both Hindus and Muslims) to visit these areas.

*³Mala literally means a Garland, also a common Hindu name for girls in India

I write it

where is a true self

where is me?

given the predicament and the contradiction, I'm all drawn in.


Am I just travelling without moving at all.

my ways, my life, my being.



do they not pose my questions

Incoherent answers, are they not all I have.


but somehow I'm still chugging along

somehow still finding myself, I am.

somehow still dealing with life's incorrigible differences, I am.


yet with hope I'd fight

yet with hope I'll find I believe

my destiny is what I choose

fight I will

these incoherencies will disappear, I believe

I will succeed. I will live.

it is my own promise to my self.

it is my angst, it is my deciphering, it is my devaluation.

it is my survival at cost, it is my deep devotion.

I have my fate. and I write it.

search the dew

The dew is not formed here 

The winters may come, and the flower petals may yearn for it

But due never comes here, ever.

The joys of small little joys are gone forever, they are gone

To find them, to search for them, I have to search farther lands

They are not found here

Its concrete here, in the mind, and in the surroundings

Its all I get here, why did I come here

where is inspiration, why do I have to dig deep within to find it

पेंसिल।

पेंसिल।

पेंसिल, वो इक स्याह सा टुकड़ा

अब कहाँ है, और उसे कैसे है खोया।  

क्यों न हो उस पेंसिल की तलाश 

जिसे पकड़ना, जिसे पकड़ना,

कितनी ही आत्मीयता से,

पापा ने था सिखाया।   

वो पहली बार पेंसिल से बस चीस रहे थे

रंगरेजों की तरह, कागज़ में 

वो काला सा रंग। 

वो काला सा रंग बस भरे जा रहे थे 

आज यूं ही याद सा आ गया मुझे 

वो पेंसिल की नोक। 

किस तरह तराशते रहते थे,  

पेंसिल की नोक। 

...

बस समष्टि की गोष्ठी 

इसी गोष्ठी ने कहा 

एक पेंसिल की धारदार नोक पर 

विवेचन कर, अन्तः में झाँक कर,

अपनी नयी संरचना कर.

उदहारण सा दे, अपनी समष्टि का,

अपनी ही पेंसिल की लकीर से, 

अभिव्यक्ति का 

अपनी श्रृष्टि का, अपनी दृष्टि का 

अपने चक्षु के समावेश का

कुटुंब में, विश्व में।

ऋणों के उद्दभव, और उसके उद्गम का सार 

इसी पेंसिल की नोक पर 

इसे यहीं सृजित कर 

अभिव्यक्ति की पराकाष्ठा इसी धरती पर। 

बस ढूँढ ले पेंसिल को 

बस ढूंढ ले उसकी धार-धार नोक को 

बस ढूंढो उस पेंसिल को 

तराशे हुए, धारदार नोक को