Saturday, June 23, 2012


He could feel the sticky drops of sweat binding him to his Tee and he wanted to break free. Get out of his skin. His insides had been eating him for days at end now. He'd tried almost everything, legal or forbidden, to rejuvenate but alas to no avail. He remained a prisoner of his own sub-conscious, the demons of his own creation...

And then the heavens opened and he saw a downpour like no other.


... thoughts failed him for once, and he ran out of all that confined him; the dark humid room, his sticky clothes, his own mind. The cold drops hit him like bullets, pelting from above. He braved the barrage for a couple of seconds before letting go...and let his naked body soak. A million faces and a zillion thoughts flurried through his mind before...


It was all empty, zilch, nada, zero, nothing!! The downpour washed everything and nothing remained. Time passed, minutes, hours, days, eternity; he neither knew nor cared. He let the rain consume him until he was free.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012


Fly high, Fly far,
Beyond the skies, beyond the stars,
No fear to stop on the way,
Fly freebird fly, this is your day.

Your nest is yours,
Nobody gets an inch,
Fly freebird fly,
Feel no pinch.

Ride the wind, let nothing stop you,
Above the clouds yet with every drop of morning's dew,
The angels are watching, become who you are,
Fly freebird fly, there is no bar.

Come back when you want to,
Nothing will have changed,
Fly freebird fly,
Thou art unchained.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Ek murde ki vyatha...

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,
वादा था एक दिन आऊंगा,
आज खड़ा हु, सिर्फ तेरा होके,
थाम ले तो प्यार से सो जाऊंगा,

शमशान के वादे हज़ार,
किस किस से निभाए,
जनाज़ा जिसका जितना बड़ा,
उसकी बारी पहले आये,

जिंदा था तो रोया था,
मौत की बेवफाइ पे,
चाह के भी मौत ना आई,
तड़पता रहा वो ज़िन्दगी की रुसवाई पे,

आज मारा तो भी चैन कहा,
वक़्त का खेल अनोखा,
जलने की भी जगह नहीं,
शमशान ने भी दिया धोखा,

सोचा मुर्दे ने लाश का तो कोई मज़हब नहीं,
चलो दफ़न ही हो जाते हैं,
पर जो जिंदा बचे थे,
उनके नियम कहाँ ख़त्म हैं, 

मुर्दा कहे शमशान से,
कहा जाऊं अब हिम्मत ख़त्म,
कोई तो रास्ता दे दे,
कहे तू तो बिक जाए हम.

उपसंहार :
पुर्जा पुर्जा हो बिक गया,
ना बचा कोई मान,
मुर्दा आखिर ख़त्म हुआ,
अंत तक पुकारता शमशान.

(Every year about 5 million dead bodies are illegally sold for all kinds of sick reasons, who notices?)

From the smoky hues - a dream...

This was written eons ago, almost in a different life just felt like sharing it again... :)

I am glad for those foggy nights,
And those dim lights,
When I felt your soft touch beside me,
Where you and I in those eccentric moments became we,
When I felt every single one of those unspoken words,
That you and I've said so many times in my dreams of another realm,
But that shall never become reality,
Even I do not wish for it as you already seem so happy,
In your dreams for they seem so real,
But in mine you remain the Alice of my wonderland,
So surreal.


I fret again for the smoky hues,
For I am glad for those smoky nights,
And those dim lights,
For there again you shall be,
With those eccentric moments, mine and waiting just for me...

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