Sunday, 8 October 2017

Voyage




Mellow morning…

A blue bed spread hung
Outside my window
Without much ado
The cushions of clouds
A patchwork of snow
The gold silk thread
Interspersed in the weaving
I know its His doing
                           
Afternoons are long
At times sun is strong
At others shadows draw
Silhouettes deep and long
The balmy breeze whispers
A hummable tune
I hum along
Its His catchy song

Dusk  a rush of colours
An intense stroke here
A languid touch there
Deepening in moments
As evening strolls in
The echoes gather words
A few hurriedly spoken
A few uncommoly blurred

Nights are placid
My boudoire opens
To a sequined sky
Whiff of jasmine
 Gleaming panes afar
Of strangers and householders
Solitude is a Gift
So precious from You
My due

Dawn is stealthy
Feathery wisp
A knock so soft
Like the moving lips
To a rosary of chants

No! More like the hymn
Of the Carmelite nuns
Dousing the soul
In symphony rare
Or like a bouquet
Parceled by an
Unknown Courier

Pleasant surprise
May be for some
But I have a hunch
You had come!


Shared with Poet's United



Sunday, 30 July 2017

Chameleone

From Google



I am not black
Like the darkening arcades of night
Menacing......foreboding
Neither in me is
The vastness of the blue
The sunshine of yellow
Blinds my vision
The lushness of green
Is not me either
White is too primitive
So is grey sinister
And the vermilion red
A Bohemian splurge
Nor attractive, becoming neither
Untouched by the hues
I am devoid of a palette
See me change colour
As the seasons change

Sunday, 26 March 2017

ज्वाला



जलती आग
शिकस्तों पे चोट
मेरी बिंदिया 

Wednesday, 8 February 2017

खुली खिड़की

खिड़की खोलते ही
इक मुट्ठी  आसमां  का झलक
जिसका नीलापन कुछ फीका सा पढ़ गया है
सुफ़ैद  रुई से कुछ बादल
ठहरते नहीं.... बह जाने की ताकीद में
दूर दूर तक नज़र न आते
ऐसे एक-दो पंख फड़फड़ाते हुए पंछी
मीलो-मील उड़ान भरने की कोशिश में
एक टहनी  हरा दुपट्टा ओढ़े
सुनहरे चूड़ियों के गोलाइयाँ  खानकातीं
आँखें चौन्धियाते हुए रोशनी के  झुरमुठ
उस पे झोंका एक परदेसी सा अजनबी दहलीज़ों के खुशबू लिए
और एक बचपन खोया सा

कभी कभी सोचती हूँ
क्या सबकी खिंड़कीयाँ खुलते हैं
आसमान के सतह पर?
वह सब्ज़ीवाला जो चढ़ती धुप में
आवाज़ें लगाता है दरवाज़े पर
"सब्ज़ी  लेलो........ !"
वह पागल जो ट्रैफिक सिग्नल पर
सर खुजाता है और ज़ोर-ज़ोर से हँसता है
अपने ही अनकही चुटकुलों पर
और नहीं तो वह रिक्शावाला
जो देखते ही नमस्ते करता है
कोई बता रहा था हाल ही में
उसने अपनी  बहन की शादी कराई है
मार्किट से चौड़े ब्याज पे  क़र्ज़ें  लेकर

क्या इनके भी खिड़कियाँ खुलते है
आसमान के सतह पर ?
या इक झलक आसमान की
तलाश में कट जाती है पूरी ज़िन्दगी ?
सूखे सपनों को पसीनों में  फिसल जाते देख
अरे ! इनके बंजर घरों में खिड़कियाँ हैं भी या नहीं ?
या बसर करते होंगे ईंट पत्थरों के ढेर पर
और राख होते देखते होंगे सुलगते रोटियों को
पूछिये तो इनसे खिड़कियाँ देखी  है कभी?
जिसके साये में हम बैठ लिखते है
सच्ची-झूठी मनगढंत कहानियाँ...... ?

पता नहीं

शायद ......

उनकी खिड़कियाँ ??????????????????????








Thursday, 29 September 2016

Shoes And Soul

Shoes on the rack
I wish to make amends
By changing size
She holds me back 
With whip in hand
Poised to strike
The lashings whine
I try in vain
To stifle the cries

Shoes on the rack
Tell me why
I can't tread beyond
The limits drawn
By that number on the sole
Are  my feet to be defined?




Shared with Poets'United 

Sunday, 18 September 2016

Mother And Child

I have nurtured hatred
unendingly so................
bags full of trash
valueless to the world
priceless to me
as all other worthless thoughts
churned and cherished
within the fragile membranes
                  of a puerile mind
now appear to have lost their shine
in the blinding glitter
of mushrooming malls

I have parented dreams
wailing in the womb
of silenced nights
throttled sobs
and muffled cries

I have sung lullabies
to sooth them to sleep
and woken them up
at the wrong time
fed them what
money could not buy
nourished them well
so that they  not die
an untimely death
schooled them to believe
they have been immortalized

Yes, I have mothered dreams
but never a child...


Friday, 29 April 2016

Skyscraper

From Google


Today I cleaned the attic
Dusted the mats
Ran the creaky drawers on their rusty channels
Vacuumed the drapes
Sprayed the freshener generously around
Then closed all the windows.....doors
Ventilators.............so that no dust
Should settle again on the bed, floor, closets
But there is one little hole
Down the corner (......workmanship of a nibbler)
Where the walls meet the floor
Cleverly covered by the frayed carpet
Which I couldn't shut....................(though I tried hard, believe it or not)
Like the blocked drain
In the shaft
................And the sun somehow manages to creep in
Through the slit lighting a room so dark and heavy with the smell
Of ancient baggage, mothballs and memories............
It rankles deep down..............(why I wonder!!)


And when I wrote a few verses today
...................On the vastness of the sky
...............................................Running meadows
.................................................................................Singing streams
..........................................................................................................Gurgles of laughter
The little hole in the unused attic
Kept on bothering me
With its narrow confines
Where the world seems to open up and beckon me...............
Yet I stay bolted behind


Shared with Poets United