Aayi

Dedicated to my mom...
This poem was written on her birthday..
Here goes my first try in Hindi Poem Writing!

Aayi...

Aasuon mein tu
Saason mein tu
Takdeer mein hai
Hai mere dil ke tasbir mein tu
Bhool naa paoon tujhe chaahke bi..
Meri zindagi hai tu.

Yaad karta Hoon main yaha;woh yaadein meethi
Aapke haath ka mast khana;aap ki haath ki rothi.
Mujhe gudgudaake,aap bi hasti
Aap ki woh meethi aawaz:
Abhi bhi hai mere kaanon mein basti.

Aap karte bhagwan se prarthana roz
Ki mujh pe koi aanch na aaye ..
Mein deta unko chunoti thös
Aur kar aata Kuch ghaav naye
Unki aasuon ko dekh kar mere ghaav bhar jaate ..
Vahi unki aakhon mein khushiyan laate

Diye hai Maine unhe taklifein kayi
Sahii hai unhone sabhi, soch ke mein Kuch samajh tha nahi!
Kabhi kabhi Mann me hi unse
Maang Leta hu maafi iss ke liye
Kabhi sochta ki, pooch loon maafi
Aur ek shararat ke baad hi sahi!

'Aayiii' karke mein chillata
Tu aajati daudte,liye woh chinta bhare nain
Main poochta tujhe tab
"Meri rajayi kaha rakhi tune?",
Chah kar hi bolta main woh,
Sunane ko teri loriyaan,
Paane ko teri jhappiyan
Aur woh meethi GN pappi
Jiske bina mujhe naa aati need,naa chain.

Jahaa tere chaukhat mein
Mujhe bhagwan dikhta
Ab tu hai uski chaukhat mein
Tu apne aap ko akeli matt samajh Aayi...
Mein yaha pe roz hu usey pukarata,cheekhta.

Aur nahi seh sakhta yaha tere bin
Har ek lamha hai,jaise ek yug.
Naa bulaaye bhagwaan toh kya hua mujhe,
Main aa raha hu khud.

On the ends of Good and Evil

(Based on the Cherokee legend of Two Wolves)


My old man used to say, that
There are two wolves in our mind.
One is good and bright,
Another is evil and jealous of others' sight.

Which one prevails?
Which one do you become in the end?
It's the one you feed, he said.
One to which your thoughts you lend.

There's a narrow alley,
Between good and bad.
We are the ones who choose,
No wonder sometimes people go mad.

What defines good?
What defines evil?
The prospect of one's life?
Or the principles we live by?

Is it the situations, which turn aloof?
Or is it the time itself?
Deciding if one's good self or bad self,
That is in a perilous state.

The World is black and white.
But how to decide which side it is,
If one hasn't seen the difference?
Which side of scabbard do we see: silver or gold?

One man's tragedy is another's happiness
One man's loss is another's gain
Circle of life continues,
Through a death and another birth.

Mind confesses,
That it has a dark side.
Everyone does, isn't it?
Sins are committed.
Rules broken, wrongs happen.
Mends are made.
True conviction, blind beliefs.
Though there's no righteous sin, is there?

One's perspective of life changes,
Like the shapes in a kaleidoscope.
Like the sand dune,
Shrewd change it is.

The life and its ways always elude me
Even after these many years..
Still wondering which wolf it is,
That rules my mind.

Inequality & People

Governments come and go.
Reforms are made to widespread equality.
Only thing that changed is time.
And money, from one hand to the other.
The hands that that gave money grew older,
While there were already new hands to extort.
They wore golden bracelets,
While the leather belt of old man's wrist watch withered.
Rich gets richer, poor continues to be poor.
Inequality prevails!

(published on Quora blog Inkdrop)

The Doors

I saw the doors of that temple open. God seemed to be beaming at me and inviting me in with arms wide open. But, the doors of my mind which led to faith, in God and temples, had closed forever; the day they threw us out of our own home. To build those same doors of the temple, which were open. I couldn't help but think that this temple stood on the grave of my home, of my memories. Yes. For me, it was a cemetery. Those walls that had witnessed my memories of growing up in that home, the happy times our family had , the grief and sadness we had been through together had been brought down. With that ,had crashingly come down my faith and my love for God. They tore our home apart brick by brick. But in doing so, they tore me and my memories connected with those each brick. Because each of them had their own story to tell about me. I had grown up with them. Now, I had witnessed their death.

Time

Clock is ticking
With its dials clicking
As I trip down the memory lane
Days, weeks and years seem to be flicking.

Now
When I look back at those good,old days
The prose of life by time's quill
I wish, I could go back,
And stayed there till.
For there're times in our life
We wish, time should've stayed still.
Each of its moments we would have replayed,
If it was in our will...

Wish I could feel those hugs again
Those thousand kisses on my face
That resurgence of tears 
Those touches that made me daze...

Those fights with dear ones
The sound we did, while we sloshed
Those tears,smiles and food we shared together
The moments that brought us close
Getting angry with mom
Over an sour, unwanted medicine's dose
The way we faked our anger for that
The way we closed our room's door.

Those pangs, that failed me to dust
Now,they seem like a withered city
Past on the way of my life...
Their weils distantly echoing through air,
Piercing it like a knife.
But I've no time to turn back,
As there is no time for pity.

Whatever I wish or think now,
Past,now,is just a story.
You may reread ,remember,drink,cherish,
But never relive it,in present's glory.

So, I feel that I must stop wishing
For the time to stop.
As it will one day,for us.
For everyone.
But,till then:
Let the time flow,by its own free will,
We have ours to enjoy,be happy and chill!

The Dragon Carcass

Had varieties of dreams today. I saw myself crying on the grave of a saint,which was in a busy street of Istanbul. It was visible,only when the floor was warm; when people walked more on that particular spot. That floor had his fresco. The face was like that of Jesus. Then: the dream changed suddenly.

He and I were disposing a dragon carcass lying in front of our home. We raced back to home,to see who reaches the flagpole of the stadium behind our home first. Before running off,we casted one last glance back at the carcass. It started raining. We saw that,the shadow of dragon carcass's head was not exactly that of a head. It was branded. It had a mark that looked like an eye. Suddenly the shadow solidified and became the shards of blue glass. When I picked up one of the shards,the land suddenly seemed like turning mushy. I felt my feet wobbling. Then,with fear as well as with respect for the dead beast, I threw away the glass shard at the horde and told him that I don't want whatever I don't need.

What happened next was even more disturbing and equally fascinating. I was at a hotel where I had never been before in my life. I saw there,a group of transgenders. I was wondering about the looks they get,when they come to public places. I was just staring at one(with black top and blue jeans) out of curiosity. Suddenly, she(or he?) started staring back at me. It was disturbing to see those sockets with eyeballs (were they bulging out?) looking back at you with an uncommon intensity, like I was an alien. There I was; transfixed and dazed. I closed my eyes with fear and was profusely sweating. The person staring at me arose; and started marching forward at me. When my eyes opened,the person was just a step or two away. Then: it happened.

"Wake up!!", I heard the voice coming out of that guy's mouth. But I hadn't believed a moment before it was a guy. That guy( person) then,pushed me back,while I was sitting rooted to my chair and I fell into a pool of water. My eyes suddenly opened and there he was; exhausted,exhilarated from the attempt of waking me up. As a last resort, my best friend and roommate had tried dousing me with water,like I was on fire. "Jackass! We're already late. If you keep dreaming,even after you wake up,I'm gonna kick your shin"- said Samar. I was back to reality, finally.

The Woman

Painting by: Amrata Raykar

Words wouldn't do justice,
To that gentle flower of Eden.
That woman;my life's apex.
She eclipses in my eyes,
And predominates whole of her sex.

I dream of her everyday.
She's a wisp of fragrance;
So close,but yet unreachable.
Ethereal and divine is her being.
That beautiful painting She is.

That voice;like the ringing of China bells.
Harmonious as music.
Like the notes of guitar,
When it's strummed gently;
As though its her back.
That peaceful sound hers is.

Her eyes;
A calm ocean of emotions.
A looking glass,filled with love.
Deadly sight for anyone;
Her eye's side look.

Those gentle caressing hands.
Caring the most and at times,
Ready to carry the brand.
Her hands were leaves.

The embodiment of love and passion
My love, the elixir of my life.
Beautiful,silent like a moon light,
On a silvery winter night.

My hands tremble,
As I hold her tight in my arms.
The fear that she'll melt.

Painting by: Amrata Raykar

For my warmth,
For she's a gentle blossom.

My only prayer to thee:
Make her mine,forever.
For she deserve better.
The troubles she has undergone
Like winter before autumn.
Make me her sunshine,
Help me find my purpose of life,in her.
For only her is my light and warmth,
As well as my life.

Make me hers.
Make me hers.