उसका इंतज़ार

जानता नहीं उसे, न मिला हूँ एक बार
उम्र कट गयी है करके उसका इंतज़ार
है नहीं कहीं वो शायद इस जहान में
फिर भी मज़ा आ रहा है करके उसका इंतज़ार

ख़ुश हूँ के दूसरा कोई है रास्ता नहीं

ग़म भी तो हुआ है करके उसका इंतज़ार
घर में ही क़ैद रहता हूँ अब इस तलाश में
वो आए न आए, न जाए उसका इंतज़ार

इस मुल्क में बाग़ों की कमी वैसे तो नहीं
हर बाग़ कर रहा है पत्तियों का इंतज़ार
वो फूल जो मैं ढूँढता हूँ इतने वक़्त से
वो हो गया स्याह करके मेरा इंतज़ार

गुलिस्ताँ के उस एक फूल की बस चाह थी मुझे
उस फूल ने पर टूटने से मना कर दिया
नाराज़गी की वैसे भी गुंजाइश ही न थी
हम हँसते हँसते कर ही गए उसका इंतज़ार

Nothing to Lose

The rose petals caress the cheek

But the thorns hurt me as I speak

The face is numb for want of touch

The burning eyes don’t say much

The fire in the mind tells the truth

As the wood mourns the charred youth

The one who warmed their hands in the fire

Have now culminated and I can hope to desire

A hope of perception receives me

While the numbness in my face deceives me

For I can’t tell the good touch from bad

I now realise I have always been sad

I hope I can rise and make a turn

But they have caged my ashes in an urn

My ashes too they want to use

Once I'm dead I'll have nothing to lose.

On AB Vajpayee's death

आज आँखों में कुछ नमी सी आ गयी
आज बातों में कुछ कमी सी आ गयी
यम ने देखा दूर से उस अटल को आते हुए
जन्नत में तासीर कुछ ज़मीं सी आ गयी

Baggage Claim

Where do you collect

Your life when it is gone

All your intellect

Is subtle; you’ve got no brawn.

I have no knowledge

Of things beyond my skill

You have no leverage

Over one who is meant to kill.

The checkpoint of death

Separates you from your stuff

The boarding pass is stamped

When you retain your inhaled puff.

The hand baggage does not exist

The checked-in one you do not need

Tally your name on the passenger list

Pick up your journal on the way to read.

That’s all there is to recollect

That’s all there is to cherish

It’s not up to you to select

The time you want to perish.

Flat Feet

Soaking in the warmth
Of the aged sun
I walk on sand
Making foot-marks
Which will soon disappear.

Bearing the scorching heat
Of the overhead sun
I walk on wet cement
Making foot-marks
Which will remain.

The foot-marks on the cement
Bear no identity with me, but
The soles of my shoes
Display the grandiosity
Of the walk.

The foot-marks on the sand
Seem a pleasurable creation, but
The creation will disappear
No one will ever see
My flat-foot marks.

Don’t Go

Don’t Go

Don’t go she’d said

Even as he saw in her eyes

Something he’d already read

Her eyes raw in her cries

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

Don’t go, Don’t go, Don’t go…

The letter-box distant red

Even as he saw the sun ere rise

Something he'd already said

About the day when he dies

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

Don’t go, Don’t go, Don’t go…

The corpse in the field-undead

Leaving as the soul in it dies

Tears of mourning already shed

Now wait till the white flag flies

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

I just ask you not to go

Don’t go, Don’t go, Don’t go…

THE BLACK STILETTO AND THE CRUTCHES

(1)

Walking by the swimming pool
Clad in a white bathrobe, which,
Resting over the frail shoulders,
Hangs down to the fair knees.
The stilettos: black right, left white.

White image of her robe clad form
Appears black; in the blue.
The memoirs
of the black dressed romance
Haunt him
even as he cherishes them.

The jet tresses bounce a lot
making a mess of themselves.
The crutches let go of her
even as she dives into the pool.
He sees but cannot hear the splash.
The pool exalted, hair floating.

The landlubber's apprehensive instincts
Push him towards the vintage flame
That flame long diminished.
Motions her to crawl
towards the pool's edge.

Out of the water; the pool despondent
Even as the flannel
clings to the subtle form.
The bright silhouette;
Revealing the intact left foot
And the void black stiletto

He laps up the sweet beads
strewn over her brow
and restores to her,
the fallen crutches.

(2)

He stares at the flame

On the rim of the goblet

Holding the scalding glass against his brow

He fumbles with vowels in a hoarse voice.

She hears intently, but cannot comprehend

She is confused and cannot determine

Whether it’s him or herself who is in a trance

Her hand trembles even as she let go of her glass.

He sees the glass falling one piece

In the distance, and sways his head sideways

Inviting the enchantment to take him over

He sleeps for a while and dreams about her.

She takes a walk by the swimming pool

Her toenails polished maroon; A rather darker shade
Her hair hanging down to her coccyx

Shimmering against the white bathrobe.

The crutches very much declare their existence

As he finds himself limping forward

Dependent on them.

She waits for him in the Silhouette of her form

Across the width of the pool.

Desperate to receive him, she stands with arms open wide.

Bathed in desire, he jumps into the pool.

She hears the splash, and the water turns scarlet.

Horror grips her even as she takes off the bathrobe,

And dives into the despondent pool.

(3)

The sound of breaking glass wakes him up

He realizes his sleep and dream lasted

For about a tenth of a second

And with open eyes he sees

The goblet neatly split in half

She picks up the two halves of her favorite glass

Tries some adhesive but the joint doesn’t come out neat

She strikes it on the floor in frustration

Even as the raised arm let go of the crutch

And she falls to loss of coordination.

The crutches once again declare their existence

In their last moment of glory

Even as he rushes towards her

And catches hold of her in his arms

Rendering the other crutch obsolete.

The black stiletto in union with the crutches

Lies in contentment beside the exalted pool

Witnessing the act of pursuance.

Specks of happiness on the white bathrobe

Declare the crutches redundant.

THE RADIO

Witnessing the brouhaha of pedestrians
On the pavement;
The shop offering mending of shoes-
A make-shift arrangement.

Some stop by; changing their
Worn out shoe laces
Some pass by; registering the
Scorn in their faces

The shop arrives daily in the morning;
And packs-up and leaves in the evening.
The morning and evening embed
A bargain; the source of a living.

The shop mends; catering to the
needs of the walker.
The shop creates; fulfilling the
Desires of the shoe-maker.

The shop’s contents: A beach umbrella,
A thin black rubber sheet; On it the tool-box
Sheets of two shades of leather, A cobbler
And hanging overhead, a bundle of blue socks.

Then there is a prized radio,
The antenna palpating the umbrella ceiling
The last number broadcast on the radio
Was about how a cobbler was feeling.

Now, there’s no voice on it though,
Perhaps,
The batteries have gone slow.
The shop now arrives an hour earlier,
In the morning.
Packs-up and leaves an hour later,
In the evening.
Struggling to sustain itself; A reason to rejoice:
Once again, on the radio, there’ll be a voice.

The Frisbee

The Frisbee goes flying; comes flying
He struggles hard to catch
The remains of him on the deserted island
Take their guard; to match.

To match his struggle, that is.
And he remembers her then, and curses himself
Because the remains, of those times with her then,
He can’t recollect, and is distracted.

Distracted so much so that
He misses the Frisbee but by a whisker
And he remembers then, that
Back then; she pronounced a vivid whisper.

He struggles hard to concentrate
And achieves some peace
As he succeeds in catching her straight
The Frisbee: one piece.

And the peace dissolves the very next moment
As he throws her away: one piece,
In the same moment he caught her;
The Frisbee, I mean.
Perhaps, she’s meant to be
Released as soon as she’s caught.
The Frisbee, I mean.

The Relegation

She sent me away on a holiday
She made me smoke and sweat
I thought I dropped her on my way
Even as she did over me, fret.

I let her fret over me because
Poor thing hasn’t had a meal
Since ages, Since Santa Claus
Refused and terminated her zeal.

What she wanted back then
Is what I want for me now
But she still wants
What she wanted back then
So there’s no
Chance for me anyhow.

She arranged for me this vacation
And prayed that all goes well
My whole life’s gonna be a relegation
My whole world’s gonna be hell.

I Endure You

You go on doing the same thing again
Hurting me in whatever way you can
And I’m adamant
I go on doing the same thing again
I endure you.

You beat me You cheat me
You harass me Embarrass me, you eat me
But I go on doing the same thing
I endure you

Taking away the best days of my life
What a waste! You ain’t even my wife
But I go on doing the same thing
I endure you

Surrendering to the virtues
That you say you possess
I give you the sanction
To destroy my life
And I will go on doing the same thing
Enduring you.

The Black Stiletto

Walking by the swimming pool
Clad in a white bathrobe, which,
Resting over the frail shoulders,
Hangs down to the fair knees.
The stilettos: black right, left white.

White image of her robe clad form
Appears black; in the blue.
The memoirs
of the black dressed romance
Haunt him
even as he cherishes them.

The jet tresses bounce a lot
making a mess of themselves.
The crutches let go of her
even as she dives into the pool.
He sees but cannot hear the splash.
The pool exalted, hair floating.

The landlubber's apprehensive instincts
Push him towards the vintage flame
That flame long diminished.
Motions her to crawl
towards the pool's edge.

Out of the water; the pool despondent
Even as the flannel
clings to the subtle form.
The bright silhouette;
Revealing the intact left foot
And the void black stiletto

He laps up the sweet beads
strewn over her brow
and restores to her,
the fallen crutches.

Those Days will never grow old

It was a real good place
As far as I was told
And as I remember them
Those days will never grow old.

Then I came face to face
With bullies just gone bold
And as I remember them
Those days will never grow old.

When I first fell from grace
Cheap rum and sizzlers cold
Assignments were a gone case
The grades were falling two fold
And as I remember them
Those days will never grow old.

And then as I saw that face
I was like - Lo and behold!
My heart set itself in a race
And I kissed her as her eyes rolled
And as I remember them
Those days will never grow old.

Got a job to save my face
My life got into a mould
There ain't much one can praise
Save this song that is sung and told
Still as I remember them
Those days will never grow old.

FAILURE

The study where she dwelt
A dark dingy room
The phrases & the words spelt
a stark clingy gloom.

The desk, the pencil, the notebook
The naked countenance
The brow crossed, giving a look
of subtle arrogance.

The spell half pronounced
The cup of potion spent
The battle-cat pounced
on bottles of milk & scent.

The broken cup & bottles
The hung weeping face
She lights a smoke & throttles
The lung keeping pace.

Where in the Middle?

I walk down the road
With my head full of memories
Much time is lost remembering
But then I think its worth it.

When I commenced my pilgrimage
The shrine was visible in the distance; Not far off
But the steep valleys hidden in the contours
Delayed me in bits, every now and then.

But I hoped that someday
I'd climb a hill to find
That it was the last one
And the worshipper in me will be redeemed.

That hope lives still
While I climb the longest ascent I've encountered till now
I've heard the longest one is the last hurdle
And I'm grateful I'm able to hope.

Which Tomorrow?

Tomorrow 1:

As he enters his apartment
With a girl by whom he's smitten
He finds a notice for the rent
And something stinking in the kitchen.

She says "Better Tomorrow."
He says "I ruined the moment."
She feels a bit of sorrow
He calls a cab and advances payment.

Tomorrow comes as was meant
In the newspaper its written
She died in a car accident
And its still stinking in the kitchen.




Tomorrow 2:

As he enters his apartment
With a girl by whom he's smitten
He finds a notice for the rent
And something stinking in the kitchen.

She says "What a mess. Must be your sink."
He says "Don't worry I'll put it alright."
"I'll do the dishes while you do me" she says "then it won't stink."
And thus, they laugh away the night.

Tomorrow comes as was meant
In the newspaper its written
Some girl died in a car accident
And nothing stinking in the kitchen.

Without You

Without you O my love
I sail the ocean vast
But without you
I drown in each of the waves.

Without you O my love
I live on tofu diet
But without you
I starve a hundred days.

Without you O my love
I'm a nomad
But without you
I wander many a place.

Without you O my love
I die a martyr
But without you
I die a thousand deaths.

Contempt

The revelation is mystique
Like a moon-lit landscape
But the eyes of the mystic
See the whiter in white cape.

A face strewn with glittering stars
A forehead like the crescent
As distant as the moon and stars
Inhaling and exuding different scents.

Four limbs as the milky way
Spirals thrown out in the skies
An abdomen bearing nebulae
A blackhole amidst thighs.

The polaris, witness, bears
The culmination of all
Fixed on the celestial sphere
Doesn't itself rise or fall.

The eyes stoned with contempt
The mind rendered deprave
Paid for things to tempt
One of the most that is brave.

I Will Smile

There's a score of years

of history behind me

There's a pool of tears

of mystery the blind see.

When I go I will smile.

Bearing the sarcasm

of those who mind me.

Awaiting the orgasm

of those who bind me.

When I'm released I will smile.

Seething in pain

over wounds they gave me.

Bathing in rain

over grounds my grave be.

When I'm redeemed I will smile.

Life of a Wound

I

Parting of skin : The first sign
Of a wound; Malignant, benign.
The gushing of blood outside
Its desperate, freed to unreside.

Curious about the outer world
Doesn't realize its world is the body
The veins : the rails of its travel
The heart, lungs, organs stations.

But still out it rushes
For it knows not
That in the outer world
Alas! It will clot.

II

Still fresh is the wound
Tiny droplets of serum around
Ooze out; After cleansing
Again, it never seems finishing.

Causes some itching in the vicinity
The fingers respond to the stimuli
Along with nails unkempt; They scratch
And lo! Germs and infection it does catch.

III

Resisting the invaders are leucocytes
Righteously with them they fight
Such is the caliber of single cells
Pus is formed and invaders face hell.

The battlefield now being cleared
They dead being cremated and feared
That they may return
So its now the surgeon's turn.

IV

In the last days of its span
The wound is now a respectable man
Elegantly dressed all in white it is
Changes daily after bathing with spirits.

Drying up it is day by day
Heading towards the end of its stay
In this world, where it was unwelcome
Well, the time was tough but had to come.

LIFE CALLING

Many chances he got to prove himself
And many a times he tasted success
His success relies on nobody but himself
He's capable but that doesn't suffice.

Success comes from deep within
Where you are satisfied, content.
He's crowned with many achievements, big and small
The real calling, but, lies, now before him.

He shines as of now, like a star in a galaxy
Millions of other stars, hog the limelight
Being a star isn't easy neither is difficult
Because it isn't there are many others.

The real thing is to shine like the sun; Alone
Guiding the world during the day, when
None else is there to show the right
It shines aloof, no other sharing its light.

He's got this opportunity to be the sun
He knows he's one of the few who can succeed
In this endeavour, which demands excellence
Excellent he is; Brilliant in every deed.

His thirst for success will be quenched
In his heart he knows he'll be content
With the success of this endeavour, this calling
This will happen, certainly, if he is drenched.

Life calls once in a lifetime
This opportunity, he's got, to make it large
He is capable, he can do this; He will.
After all the sun is also a star.

Go On

I saw a face
And followed
But she was fast
I couldn't keep pace
So I started to run
And I ran with my eyes closed
I don't know when
I overtook her
Then, panting, I turned
And realized I had lost her
Then there was no point tarrying
Because I didn't know
Whether She still
Followed the same path
Or had taken some turn
So I started to run
Again. With my eyes closed
One brine mixed with another
Life goes on
Time goes on.

The Time called Life

The sky high
The ocean deep
The life a suspension
Too superficial to dive into.

The complicated simplicity
Simple Humans
Complicated Robots
Simple stars complex telescopes.

The Galaxies, accelerating away
Moving in Space
Time coming from future
To us and going into past.

We go to future
Time goes to past
We meet at present
Both complete each other.

It is a world of Time
Simple and complicated
Simple atoms complex nebulae
Complex Humans Simple Time.

THRIVER

The quill and paper
The chair and table
Descending the taper
My life ain't stable
Of all things in the world
Its gonna do one thing to you
Its gonna suck your blood.

The transportation
Itself a riddle
The fornication
Syringe and needle
Of all things in the world
Its gonna do one thing to you
Its gonna suck your blood.




The smoke and liquor
The glass and china
It is a viper
Or is it a hyena
Of all things in the world
Its gonna do one thing to you
Its gonna suck your blood.

DIVINE AND DIABOLIC

Raindrops hither, raindrops thither
Sun nowhere to be seen

Rooms all rendered dingy

This life I hate in this season

Clothes never dried

Matresses moist, sticky

Bedsheets, linen, curtains all moist

Fungus developing.

Far across in other suburbs

Drainage and sewage choked

Floods created on streets

Public life rendered hell

Schools closed, offices shut

Shops closed, vehicles stuck

Inhygiene, chaos, casualties

Diseases, epidemic, death.

Far up north

Raindrops hither and thither

Children rocking on a swing

Hung on a banyan tree

Crops in fields swaying

Flushing green in colour

Boys and girls bathing in rain

Making love under the thatch.

In the west, Thar, Kutch

Clouds come often

Rains come seldom

Dry land poking at the sky

Rain is awaited

Rain is unwanted

Rain is God

Rain is the Devil.

A MARTYR'S FATHER

Sunrays fall on his face
His face does not glow
The sun cannot itself erase
Its own shadow.

The pigment of his skin
Darkened by the sun
The beard on his chin
Bleached by the sun.

The sun never rises at dawn
Since his son fell at one
Where daggers were drawn
A rising and a setting sun.

He's been doing well
On a long stretch of pavement
He has some memoirs to sell
Safely kept in a basement.

At sunset a dog barks
It sounds like firing
At sunrise a god harks
He finds it rhyming.

The Memories...

The fire is rekindled and I can feel the heat

Its pleasant but its also burning my feet.

The time I was with you, its been like centuries

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

I want to weep; my smile is waning

The heavens are with me; its already raining.

The rainbow seems like one of your draperies

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

I'm wandering, completely lost in the woods

Its still raining; I take shelter in tree hoods.

I remember your lips while eating wild raspberries

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

The rain has stopped and it is now night

The scape is mystique, illuminated by moonlight.

Your cheeks and my palms are as the gibbous moon and breeze

Once again I'm taken over by your memories.

The night is fading and the sun is rising

I'll have to forget you or else it'll be biasing.

But I'm helpless, your picture is emerging from sceneries

And once again, I'm taken over by your memories.

Reasoning Happiness

He's happy but he doesn't know why
He's lost it, not quite; Still happy, Why?
He's happy; Isn't that enough?
Why he wants a reason and all that stuff?

He wonders his happiness is true or not
Can failure also bring happiness or can it not?
Moreover why did he feel happy on his last success?
So interrogative he's become; Is this the right process?

Is he happy for he's got no other option?
A dull photograph bearing a lively caption.
No, no. Not at all; may be he doesn't want happiness.
Does happiness bring him the same? Or is he happy with his sadness?

He's confused with himself,
Probably he reversed his own self.
Happiness bringing to him sadness,
And sadness bringing happiness.

He's now found the reason of his happiness within himself,
But in the process he lost happiness itself.
Afraid of being happy, he searched for the reason,
I wish he knew, being happy is itself enough reason.

The Leather of the Square

Running here and there
She's seen on the streets of Lucknow
Draped from head to toe
In fresh leather that is her own.

The leather is never washed
Except when the Uniformed men
Take her to the public bath
And assault her starved form.

Her leather creaks everytime she is washed
Unquantizable scars are left
Her leather needs oil, nutrition
But water alone can she have.

She doesn't beg for food
She doesn't beg for coins
In fact, she begs not at all
Only wanders round and round the square.

But one thing she has in plenty
Her leather; Worn out and scarred
But call it fresh for it is her own
The only other thing she has is bone.

Some wonder why she is on the square
Others, why she's in the world itself
And she has nothing else to wonder
Only, why can't she sell that leather.

The Monarch

The majestic bird of prey, so royal
The hawk; He's committed he's loyal
To himself, his family and his offspring
He's bloodthirsty and will tear at anything.

Smaller birds he tears everyday
Hungry or not, this is his way
The other aves are his subjects; he thinks
Hunts them at will; Blood on his beak stinks.

He's blessed by nature, with powers ultimate
Rules the sky; Everyone else his subordinate
Large wings, hooked beak, strong claws and focussed sight
All these powers assist him, adding to his might.

Hovering over the sky, with no complements
Hunts for his prey; Reptiles, birds and rodents
Never has he failed in his bloody endeavours
Tears off his prey and flesh he savours.

He's the monarch his kingdom lasts long
But he'll also die; for this his prey does long
The prey has no option but to surrender
To the monarch's lightning and his deafening thunder.

His death is awaited by many a prey
His age lasts long but death come may
By the time he dies his offspring is prepared
To take his place; Now he's completely geared.

All the powers now transferred to the descendant
As perfect as on whom he was dependent
So, the danger never ends for all who fly
His majesty is here again to rule the sky.

I Know Not....

In the dark I wander
But I can feel the scorching sunlight.
Is it day or is it night?
I know not.

Snow is falling from the sky
But I can feel the flakes burning me.
Is it snow or volcano shower?
I know not.

I enter my house to take shelter
And lock myself inside.
Am I a refugee or a captive?
I know not.

I feel hungry and bake a pie
And it tastes the same as everytime.
Is it sweet or is it sour?
I know not.

I take poison to end my life
But feel like immortal afterwards.
Was that poison or elixir?
I know not.

Devil's Games

The devil walks with me
Follows me on land and in sea
Never leaving me alone
Consolation is that I have
A companion in him
Otherwise I'm alone in this world
Colleagues I have many
But not A single mate
Of course mate can only be one
And that I am without
There is nothing but hollowness
Deep within my soul
And I'm basking in sunlight
From without; But still
I'm blind due to darkness
And can't see inside of me as well
Darkness within and darkness without
Only the devil can redeem me now
So I let him walk beside me.

The kohl in her eyes

In a bookstore he spots
A girl; A discovery of sorts
Because,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.

As I said:
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.
He sees her she turns away
He decides then not to say.

But then,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.
He goes to the counter where she's selling
Braille's literature; A page for a shilling.

He sees her, she sees him
But the irony; Her eyes are dim.
And still,
The kohl in her eyes
Is where his heart lies.

Empty Bottles versus Bottled Emptiness.

While me and my friend
Are having a bottle of beer each
Sitting on the pavement on the roadside
I spot two children collecting empty bottles.

They come to us and plead
To give them ours
We say okay, just wait
Till we finish.

One of the children, a girl
Says that the other child had
Already collected many
And asks us to give her both.

We give her the bottles
But the other one, a boy, tries to snatch
And in the process breaks them
And she sits down to cry.

Tells us that the old man
Who gives her shelter
Will thrash her for not bringing any bottles
We feel pity and drink one more.

The Pilgrimage

It’s more like an excursion
For me; just a journey
To explore the world
And spend some time with mates.

On our way we find good people
Cheering us up for our Endeavour
Going same places
But they’re on a pilgrimage.

The walk uphill is tough
Taking away six hours
Of your life; is this pilgrimage
Worth all the effort?

The entrance to the shrine
Is crowded, chaos everywhere
Mismanagement, people undisciplined
Breaking queues, each making his own.

People pushing; a few trying hard
To avoid stampede
I save a child from getting crushed
And her mother’s all praise for me.

I pat that child
And ask her in general
“Enjoying yourself?”
And she answers “No”.

I enter the shrine
And look at the three stones
The deity mocking at me
Congratulating me for completing,
Rather, surviving the pilgrimage.

The Insoluble

People are good
And I float even in ether
When they are .

People are bad
And I sink even in mercury
When they are .

Either I float
Or I sink
I do not get dissolved .