कुछ वो पल : Review

The book cover embellished with
my pink Jaipur Stones earrings
depicting 'Kuchh wo pal' or
those few moments beautiful
and precious as these jewels...

The book ' Kuchh Wo Pal'  is the debut effort of Subrat Saurabh in Hindi poetry where the poet has penned down his journey of life from the eyes of a sensitive young boy leaving home for hostel, as someone who is growing up in this world making new friendships, losing some and missing a few others, as someone who has just found his first love, someone nursing a broken heart, as a son, a grandson, a loner, a thinker and many more faces of himself taking us on a roller coaster of myriad emotions of love, longing, loneliness, apathy, frustration, separation, romance and abandonment.
These emotions are sculpted into words in the form of 50 poems all of which are independent and are written in a simple, easy to understand Hindi. The poems generally start in a promising manner but somehow lose their sheen midway coming to an insipid end. 

Writing Style
The poet has the writhing desire to express his feelings, that insuppressible itch to write and create something beautiful but unfortunately, this effort falls flat on face ending into a vapid cacophony of words and phrases. 
Hindi is a beautiful language be it in its pure form (शुद्ध साहित्यिक संस्कृतनिष्ठ  भाषा ) or in its Urdu, English mixed Hindustani form (साधारण  उर्दू-आंग्ल-हिंदी का गंगा-जमनी संगम ) but, the book fails on both levels as the crucial thing missing from these verses is - the soul, without which words are like empty husks, attractive but meaningless. The poems fail to leave any impact and are just an assortment of words making less sense and more noise.

My Take
 A poem is a spontaneous flow of emotions where the poet's world merges with that of the reader indistinguishably and we feel his journey to be ours. His joys bring a smile on our faces and his woes are our miseries. His first love brings a rosy blush on our cheeks and a naughty twinkle in our eyes whilst his first break-up chars our heart! We lose ourselves in the ebb and flow of his verse and like puppets are controlled by the inky strings of his pen. 
Alas! it is not the scene here.
Almost all the verses have an intriguing opening line but,just that. like- अगर कोई आये पूछते हुए मेरा नाम, 
हम इस कदर खो गए,  तिनके संभाल के रखें हैं झरोखों पर , यूँ बारिश की तरह कभी बेवक़्त आना... How I wished the next lines to be as interesting and promising.

The verses are quite immature lacking depth. These are neither  governed by any poetic meter (which is not a flaw) nor have the lyrical grace of a free flowing poetry.  Even vers libre has a certain reckless excitement and an open uninhibited attitude to them which is entirely missing here. What disappointed me the most is that, not even a single verse in the book has energy or intensity of any kind to it!
It entirely fails on all emotional grounds lacking in everything be it pathos, pain, compassion, satire, love or fondness.
At places, there are grammatical errors of maatra like (सीलवटों  = सिलवटों ) and at others ,either the words are too prosaic or harsh tones are used making certain words stand out like odd eyesores.

I hardly ever criticize a book so harshly but this sadly, is a lack-lustre collection of stale emotions presented in a very insipid manner. 

However, a faltering never spelled failure. It simply means a need for a better grip.
So, I wish the poet loads of intense emotions sprinkled with that grace of expression for his future endeavours as I would definitely like to read him in a better avatar. 

About the poet:
Subrat Saurabh is a writer and a blogger known by his pen-name ChickenBiryanii on social media.He is proficient in writing witty one-liners, a skill he employs liberally on Twitter using his pen name. His tweets and witty liners were telecast over television channels and  frequently gets picked up and published in leading newspapers or online news portals.He currently lives in Bangalore but in his own words, he is a small- town boy born in Muzaffarpur, Bihar; who is a keen observer of different moods and phases of people around him inspiring him to write in Hindi. He can be contacted at
 Website Address and Here 

The book was received with gratitude as a part of  the Book Review Program by Blogadda for an honest review.


Halloween Night : A poem and some thoughts.

<a href="" title="Featured post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers"> <img src="" width="235" height="96" border="0" alt="Featured post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers"/> </a>
A night of black cats; flying witches are seen
                                                                 Harvest moon whispers eerily, "It's Halloween!"

                                                                    In ruse with prowling ghosts and spectres free

                                                                 The orb laughs noiselessly with a malicious glee.

                                                                    Wolves are silent tonight but, spirits howl within,

                                                                  For some of us,  isn't it a daily din?

raveyards sit up, voodoo dolls pandiculate
                                                                   Dark shadows of sin creep up to the wicker gate!

                                                                      Church bells are mum, toothy pumpkins greet

                                                                   We goblins are here, say,  "Trick or treat?"🎃🎃

                                                        For these sweetest devils ever! 👻👻


Nothing exist in today's world  till it's been dissected and debated by self proclaimed critics on so-called 'elite' (read 'highly questionable) platforms like Twitter and Facebook.  From downright acerbic to wittily sarcastic to rarely genuine, the discussion can be of any genre and, Halloween
 is one of them. 

People wonder in print why
 Indians are celebrating it?  ...and, I wonder what IS there to wonder? Specially after I witness them aping the West, shopping for every occasion from X-mas, Valentine, to Father's, Mother's and all the other days! 

But, I have wondered more and much before. Before the Twitter age when I myself was a teen.

 I had wondered why ladies have sargi on karwachauth eve when it's a tradition in Punjab and not in Uttar pradesh? 

Why the Marwari brides wear chooda when it's essentially a part of  the bridal trousseau of a Sikh bride? 
Neither they understand the tradition and emotions attached  to it not they care to follow. Just a fad?
And, why everyone is trying a pretty Rakhi in Dravidian regions when  it is a tradition of the northern belt!
Why most of the UP people are keeping Ganesha idols at their home complete with the ' Laal Baagacha Raja' caption when they have no connection with Mumbai!

Simple. Because Media, movies and TV have popularized these customs and everyone wants to create
their own magical Cadbury moments with their family and loved ones.

As Bhartendu Harishchand had once observed, Festivals are our life-lines,the traditional systems of maintaining social structure, keeping our EQ healthy, multiplying affection, providing opportunities for forgiving mistakes,  working together as a team...simply put,  occasions for being happy!

In addition to that innate and primitive emotion, the phenomenon of consumerism has boosted the trend as more the occasions, merrier will be the business with loads of shopping bonanzas.

The Metro-city and Mall culture provided optimum environment to grab every new festival or event, regional, local, patriotic or international. Soon we'll be celebrating Losar, Hanukkah,  Mayan festivals perhaps with a boom in the sale of  lion masks, lama cloaks, red lanterns and Aztec prints respectively.
I don't see any wrong in this provided that the children are made to understand the thoughts behind the occasion.

Why, I still remember the childlike thrill I felt when I 'observed' Onam being celebrated in Karnataka which is far enough place from the original hometown of the festival!

I did not witness any snake boat races but I was thrilled beyond words to be at a place where  something, about which, I had read only in GK books was actually happening! To find myself in the midst of that buzz was bliss enough for me! And with the same childlike glee I look forward to see the Hola Mohalla and the Kullu Dussehra as now I am in the middle of some real country living in Dev bhoomi Himachal!

I wish us to be global citizens, to  understand the culture and we may be pleasantly surprised to find the thoughts of someone several light years far from us to be similar!

Don't forget your roots but let your branches grow in all directions, let your flowers bloom with an unbiased beauty and then you'd bear the fruits of affection and brotherhood.
Stop debate, understand and accept.
Don't ape guys, grow.

Pic courtesy :  sunshine blue blog


Aloha! Woman's Day :)

Top Post on IndiBlogger
Ahalyā draupadī sītā tārā mandodarī tathā ।

pancakanyah smaren nityaṃ mahāpātakanāśakam ॥

Early in my life, I heard this shloka of the 'Pratah Smarneeya Panch Kanya' which says that Draupadi, Ahilya, Tara, Seeta and Kunti/Mandodari  are the five holy virgins and by chanting their names first thing in the morning our sins are abated.

It made me realize the futility of adornments. The hollowness of words.
Those who were mauled and molested to be called eternal virgins! 

Somewhat like the Nirbhaya Act of our times.Where we fail on all grounds of humanity and morality, when we found ourselves worse than barbaric animals, we try to heal (?) and replenish by making the victims sit on a pedestal, converting them into saints, angels, Devis and martyrs.

There are innumerable examples of female stereotyping, but for me, it goes deeper than that. The basic reason for it seems to be the ability to give life which a woman possesses and a man does not. Perhaps this deep rooted insecurity of this power of her goaded him to create rules and traditions.This deep-set insecurity is in the psyche, as well as in the genes. 

So, she is either a Goddess, the pious and the giving one, benign, smiling benevolently, patient and forgiving OR a witch, the bloodthirsty one, selfish, conniving, sly and scheming. A Total terror. 
 Nowhere is she accepted as Manvi .. the Human. A person.
A person having small dreams and moderate aspirations. Lakhs of men can survive a dull life of daily drudgery with aplomb, but for a woman to be happy being just a teller is looked down upon! She needs to prove herself by being nothing less than a Kiran Mazumdar Shaw or an Indira Nooyi. Otherwise, her education is a waste! 

She is not accepted as a person with human weaknesses and human follies. Not allowed to falter in speech, dressing and behaviour!

It made me wary of being good or bad actually, of being labelled.
I was determined to be happy.
To take responsibility for my mistakes and credits of my heroic deeds which I seem to perform left, right and centre! (Yeah yeah, I am still pretty good there.)
I also felt most males as a bundle of clueless energy, not knowing in which direction they ought to run but I never felt them being better or lesser than females. They were just different..well, slightly. 

Hence, I faced the discrimination , the mindset, the stereotyping simply as a human and not as a female. I have actually taught myself that. Not to mind such comments/questions like,  You are a late riser? Don't you like cooking? You like wandering aimlessly?  yak-yak ..
Yes. I am an owl who likes to burn the midnight oil and why don't you take charge of the morning chores if YOU are an early riser? I enjoy cooking but I don't feel an adrenalin rush to realize that I have to be in the kitchen five times a day daily, like Forever! 

Munshi Premchand once  said, 

"If some traits of a male come in a female she becomes demonic and if the female traits enter in a male, he attains godliness."

Do not misinterpret it as he simply meant that The Perfect Raymond's Man, The Ideal Suitable Boy, when imbibes only a few of the feminine traits like of compassion, unending affection and patience, he becomes God!
Urvashi, our very own celestial nymph has said that to Pururva, her heroic and valiant lover, who was so smitten with her that in order to invoke her soft feelings he went on for days singing about his own heroic deeds! To which she simply replied -

 *देवालय में देव नहीं केवल मैं हूँ 
मेरी प्रतिमा को घेर उठ रही अगरु गंध 
बज रहा अर्चना में मेरी, मेरा नूपुर  

Meaning it's the masculine energy adorned with the feminine nature which makes him complete - a God from a warrior. Without her, he is just a doer, an achiever ..with 'her' he becomes a creator.
The feminine energy is that elixir which is said to be dripping from the hood of the deadliest venomous pythons and snakes, protecting them from their own poison. 

So I give two pence to dress up according to the in-thing and not even one paisa to be considered as an 'in-sync' person. I simply can not afford to care! 

I am the only sari-clad bahu in my entire family including the extended khandan.. simply because as a child I used to see my mother get ready for college in smooth shiny silks, pastel chiffons and crisp cottons with peacocks sauntering on her hems and creepers dangling coyly on the pallav! No one, including my strict and ultra-modern mum-in-law, could put me off from getting decked up in sarees! I would drape the whole six yard (anyhow) and emerge confidently to face the world rather dazedly pass through the world, as I used to be too engrossed in adoring the softness of the saree, the colours which make me feel as if I had draped myself in a piece of sky or am in Eden with flowers blooming shyly all over me!  

And for a full one year, I have teamed-up my sarees with a pair of powder blue running shoes! Don't ask why as that was the need of the hour..err.. year. They were cute as a blue bunny but for some reasons unknown, the neighbourhood aunties at my in-law's home felt otherwise and found them to be hideous! *rolling eyes*
Obviously, I did not pay heed.
 I was and still am too busy living this one life to the fullest. 

It does not matter to me if the world knows about Tandava only, as I know the Lasya.
The extremely soft dance of Parvati, the dance of grace and beauty,  which she performs in response to Shiva's roudra Tandava - the dance of destruction. It's through Lasya that she harbours the seeds of life, protects the fauna, nourishes it with her tears of love and  caress the scorched black earth back to life. I firmly believe in that part of the balance and no one can stereotype me for it. Unless of course, I am willing to be.

* In the temple it's not the Lord, but I
The incense fragrance encircles  my idol,  
The bell of my anklet tinkles in the worship of I

The Post is written as my views on Being Woman for my dear friend  and fellow blogger Dr. Kiran Acharya.  To read her wonderful post talking about gender stereotyping vist HERE. 

Her post is studded with nuggets of  wisdom from some of us women bloggers, which we have experienced, gathered or wilfully lost !. 

I am indebted to Kiran for this beautiful initiative :)

Image Courtesy: Here  


Nazm : मौसम

लो फिर से लौट के आया है प्यार का मौसम
खत-ओ-किताबत-ओ-इतंज़ार का मौसम

चाँद जागेगा फिर सर्दी की लंबी रातों  में
छाया है फिर उसी उन्स-ओ- खुमार का मौसम

फूल शरमायेंगें, कलियाँ ये गुनगुनाएँगी
'हया की लाली से कर लो श्रृंगार', का मौसम

पँछी खिड़की पे आज बैठे फिर से इठला कर
मुंडेर पे सजी महफ़िले-गुंजार का मौसम

फ़क़त वो इक नज़र गिरी हमारे हिस्से में
उसी रविश से है हर पल बहार का मौसम

बला की शोखियां बिखरी थी अब तलक हर सू
हमें मिला खिज़ां में, अब निखार का मौसम

खत-ओ-किताबत -ओ- इतंज़ार -  (season of) writing letters and waiting (for the reply)
उन्स-ओ- खुमार - love and intoxication.   
हया- shyness 
महफ़िले-गुंजार - congregation of twittering birds , here ( musical notes of ecstatic hearts).      
 हर  सू- every where.                       
खिज़ां- autumn.                                      
रविश- time, moment, pathway


दफ़्न था जिस्म, फना रूह, मर्सिया खत्म कब का
पर ये उम्मीद है कि आज भी मरती ही नहीं

न कोई तंज़, कोई शिक़वा, कोई बदमजगी-ए-दिल.
दिल की कलियाँ हुई ऐसी कि बस खिलती ही नहीं

दरख्तों में खोई तितली को क्यूँ शहर लाये ?
सरे- बाज़ार उसे राह कोई मिलती ही नहीं

शम्मा रोशन, चरागों से नूर बिखरा है, फ़क़त,
रौनके-दिल बुझी ऐसी कि अब जलती ही नहीं

इस तरह से बचाया आपने दामन हमसे
गोया मनहूस बाद अपने कोई हस्ती ही नहीं

बेवजह भूल गए बेपनाह चाहने वाले
अब भी पूछोगे कि, " क्यूँ तुम कभी हँसती ही नहीं?"

तुम्हें हो नाज़, नहीं, ना सही, हमको है गुमां
तुम्हारे बिन कोई शै दिल को अब जँचती ही नहीं

ख़ुदाया खैर, ज़ब्त की हद हो चुकी कब की
कैसी ये बर्फ़ तेरे दिल की, पिघलती ही नहीं!

मर्सिया- the poem of mourning and lamentation                                                         तंज़- sarcasm
फ़क़त - just, only, ,महज़                             शै- entity, any thing, object, or dead.


स्मृति : Sigils (Haiku)

dewdrops on green leaves 
sigils of star-studded nights 
 glow in pink sunshine

mute anguish of sky
devoid of love it weeped these
dazzling gems of morns

                                                                                                    तुहिन बिंदु
                                                                                                    टूटे तारे, सजाते
                                                                                                    धवल प्रात:                              
                                                                                                    स्नेह-स्मृति हों जैसे
                                                                                                    मौन मूक प्रेम की



ग़ज़ल : फ़िकर

जब कभी चाँद को दहलीज़ पे लाना होगा
धूप ढ़ल जाएगी, उजालों को जाना होगा।

लफ्ज़ सस्ते थे, चमकदार थे, सो, खूब चले
फिर कोई दानिश लन-तरानी का निशाना होगा

जरा सी बात है कि हम नहीं रहे हमदम
जाम पकड़ोगे तो शर्मिंदा मयखाना होगा।

दुआ है नये सब दोस्त ज़ैब-ओ-अक्लमन्द मिलें
वरना दिल फिर कोई हाथों से दबाना होगा।

क्या फ़िकर है, यही, डरते हो लौट आएंगे?
बाद मरने के भी अब हिज़्र निभाना होगा।

दहलीज़- threshold
दानिश- wise                                           लन-तरानी- rhetorics, words of mockery (or) false praise
 हमदम- soulmate                                 मयखाना - winehouse
ज़ैब-ओ-अक्लमन्द - embellished and intelligentहिज़्र - absence, separation from beloved.           निभाना- Observe

Painting in greens with Royale Atoms

Planting trees, controlling mindless urbanization and reviving our water bodies are a few of the many measures we take to ensure healthy and clean outdoors but how many times and how many of us have ever  looked inside our personal sanctuaries- our homes for the same?  We know about the importance of living in well lit and ventilated homes but in the world brimming with lucrative offers in building materials, paints, home furnishing and décor items, we can hardly boast of making environment friendly and judicious choices any more.

We need to be careful about what we use as   fireplaces, un-vented gas stoves, heaters, wood stoves , improperly installed chimneys emit carbon mono oxide, nitrogen di oxide, Radon, particulates , hydrocarbons and children growing up in such homes have more respiratory problems than those growing up in cleaner homes.
Similarly, in modern décor we need LOTS of shelves, cabinets and wall panelling  made from pressed wood products made from adhesives having urea formaldehyde resins which can cause watery eyes and itchy , burning throat and other breathing related problems.
Asbestos found in ceiling panelling and textured paints can cause Asbestosis even lung cancer!
Radon is emitted from cracks in walls and ceiling, dirt floors and sumps.
The latex paints, many types of varnishes, wax, cleaning, disinfecting, cosmetic and hobby products contain organic solvents which can release organic compounds while we use them and, to some degree, when they are stored

While other domestic pollutants can be encountered by planting indoor plants, proper ventilation, using covered gas stoves, filling up cracks and regular cleaning of sumps, the pollution free paints piace a problem which is now solved by the Royale atoms- a paint that help purify the air.
It offers Activated carbon technology to help reduce indoor air pollution and is specially created to disintegrate foul smells which is wonderful! 

Beside this it gives a smooth matt finish, a Teflon surface protection and is environment friendly as it's VOC safe. Under standard conditions, it reduces the formaldehyde levels by 80-85% in 24 hours! 
See the video below or visit here for more info on this. 

To be able to touch the walls without worrying about stains and about the hazardous chemicals, to be able to breathe in the air inside our homes without worrying about the pollution, to have this security and confort of fresh, fragrant and pollution free air for a mother -to-be and for the new born, is something of a dream. It is a luxury which is now made possible ke for all by the Royale Atoms.
 To be safe inside our homes, to breathe freely , to welcome new generations in a world full of green plants and homes complete with modern facilities for a smoother life yet without indoor pollution and with less carbon footprints of modern living is a dream which is now a reality. We change the world by planting trees, using our natural resources judiciously outside and in our homes, simply by painting the walls with Royale Atoms...Offering pure air in Atoms of colour.

The post is written for Indiblogger #environment and AsianPaints #cleanairbeautifulhomes


Happy Grandparents Day!

When we say family matters the most, do we mean just spouse, children and parents (sometimes) both sets( rarer) or by family we mean The Family, the entire khandan full of uncles, aunts, cousins and yes, the Grandparents? Hardly.
But, for me family means everyone.
And, fortunately, both my children have inherited this and are blessed to have the most lively set of grandparents.One, the Baba-Amma showering them with gifts and the other, a retired old granny doting on them just the way only a retired, once strict and wise granny can!
My son shares a bond of mutual respect and affection with his granny as right from a very young age he admired her for her resilience and intellect, for raising his mother (I) single handedly and for carving out an enviably admirable social presence due to her knowledge and behaviour. He has her as a role model in terms of etiquette,  wisdom and character. On the other hand,  his airy head sister, simply snuggles in the lap of her Nani Ma and breathes in the same mild fragrance of sandal which I used to associate with Mum when I was young. She is the one to get the pampering simply because of the sweet nothings she keeps on twittering into her Nani's old ears.

Now both are planning hard to make her feel special on this Grandparent's day. Sometimes working in sync, at other times, trying to outdone each other... They both they both have agreed on one thing that they'll first dazzle her with their new set of acquired knowledge, hi-fi bhai with his Sanskrit language and badminton skills and jumping zapak sister with her dance moves!
Then they'd prepare delicious tea served in the a coffee mug (gifted by them)  followed by chocolates (which will be devoured by the bro-sis duo) a book and a SAARI! Their combined savings of 1000 bucks have already been deposited in to the safe hands of the Man of the House in return of online shopping.

Drawing sheets are being torn for making greeting cards, A4 sheets are getting all coloured in weird designs for writing long wishes for Nani- Ma...the responsible grandson's wishes include asking Nani-Ma to take care of her health, to eat almonds, chew properly, eat slowly, not to walk on wet floor, to keep her glasses , phone and a 'danda' ( wooden staff for thieves) handy and check the lock at the outside
gate...whew! The sister has memorized and will just prepare a card.  She has much to talk and share with the detailed plans of their future trips together, places they'd visit together, things they'd do, stories they'd read, delicacies they'd savour together...  with some practical problems also getting a mention here and there like the colours which are hard to find in hair clips or about that favourite pair of shoes which is getting smaller somehow and many more such important matters.

I see all this activity, hear all this discussion with a routine natural countenance but, deep down I am touched...and, I am thankful.
 Gratefully, they are still too naïve to plan a McDonald outing combined with a movie and are still unspoilt by the razzmatazz of huge packets of glitzy presents...they did not even planned/ thought of a visit to an amusement park! Without realising, on a subconscious level, all they are planning is to make HER happy! They are trying to spend time with their Nani-Ma AND they are trying to make  that time memorable too!

And, I know that this is the best gift they are going to give to her.. the gift of Time. Irreversible  and indestructible.
To make her break into that  warm wide smile on seeing them, to be with her, to lie down with her, over those starched and fragrant sheets which smell of security and comfort,  one on each side tucked in with her, holding her weak wrinkled hands into their soft and plump ones..the image of passing of love through generations.
Happy Grandparents Day!

 This is how my children are planning to celebrate their grandparents day , what about you and yours? :) 

The post is written in response to Blogadda prompt #LoveJatao on Grandparents Day.

I look forward to hear from you how would you celebrate Grandparents Day. Do share a selfie with your grandparents on Sept. 10, 2017 on Twitter or Facebook with #LoveJatao & tag @blogadda to win a goodie from Parachute Advansed.
And celebrate Grandparents day with Blogadda.


बारिशें: गज़ल

चाँद जा डूबा, भरी धरती ने आह,
देखो फिर से बारिशें होने लगी।

 रंग नाज़ुक उड़ गए, खुशबू फना
लफ़्ज़ों में झूठी खनक होने लगी।

कह दिया, 'तुम हो' यही काफी मुझे
जाने क्यों तुमको ख़लिश होने लगी?

जो चले जाते हैं फिर आते नहीं
मेरे दर की हर कड़ी रोने लगी।

रोकने से कौन रुकता है यहाँ?
रात फिर भी रोज़ तकिया भिगोने लगी।

आज फिर धक्का दिया दिन को जरा
तारीख़ें जैसे ज़हर होने लगीं।

कूकती थीं कोयलें जो बाग में
सय्याद को ख़ुद से नज़र होने लगीं।

झूठी खनक- hollow sounds  (of fake concerns) resonance

 दर- door                                                             ख़लिश- burning restlessness,
सय्याद- hunter, the one who ensnares birds for sale/kill/ selfish reasons


जब भी तारीकियों को बैठ आप सीते हैं
ये दमकते सितारे लगते रीते रीते हैं

ज़रा सा मुस्कुराया चाँद, गुफ़्तगू कर ली
आप समझे कि आप साथ मरते जीते हैं!

वो जो रोये थे आप किस्से कहानी पढ़कर
वो फ़साने, वो लफ्ज़ मेरे आप बीते हैं

क्यों ना निखरे अदाएं लहरों सी मचलें, आखिर
एक मुस्कान पे सौ आंसुओं को पीते हैं।

पलटे जो गर, तो जा ही न पाओगे कभी
मेरी नज़रों में रूह नापने के फीते हैं।

तारीकी - a tenebrous gloom, dejection                                                              रीते रीते - empty, listless
गुफ़्तगू - chat                                                                                                           आप बीते - autobiographical
क्यूँ ना निखरे अदाएं - why not the flirtations become more deadly                                                                                         आंसुओं को पीते हैं - as I gulp down tears( which adds salt to the coy looks!)
 रूह  नापने  के फीते -  tapes to measure/ recognize your soul...(as you are my soulmate)

Image courtesy: Pinterest


Autumn : Haiku


                                                                           .                              season's master stroke                                              lands lit with amber and gold
                  swan song of  verdant



क्या करें

                                                 मुस्कुराते हम हैं हर तस्वीर में
                                                 झिलमिलाती इस नज़र को क्या कहें?

                                                 इक मुक़्क़मल ख़्वाब होती ज़िंदगी
                                                 दिल तेरी यादों का घर, अब क्या करें।

                                                खामोश है, सुनसान है मेरा मकां
                                                तेरी बातों का असर, हम क्या कहें?

                                                उलझनें कमबख्त दिल को कम ना थीं
                                                है तेरी रंजिश भी अब सर, क्या करें...

                                                सुर्ख़ अल्हड़पन, सिंदूरी शोखियाँ
                                                आज गुमसुम गुलमोहर वो, क्या कहें...

                                                बातों से महका, लदा किस्सों से था,
                                                उस शज़र पे आज पतझर, क्या करें!

                                               पढ़ते क़सीदे थे कभी हर बात पर
                                               आज शिक़वे बस मुसलसल क्या कहें!

                                               बारहा शब के अंधेरे कम ना थे
                                               मौत जैसी इस सहर का क्या करें?

झिलमिलाती -  shimmering with tears                          शज़र- a tree in bloom
मेरा मकां - my soul.                                                          मुसलसल- connected, chained, always
बारहा - often.                                                                   सहर - morning, dawn


कुछ खास नहीं..

                                                         मन का कोई कोना जब पूछे,
                                                         वो कौन थी, उसका नाम था क्या?
                                                         समझा देना ऐसे ही थी।
                                                         उसको अपना आभास नहीं
                                                         ऐसे ही थी कुछ खास नहीं।

                                                        सपने सी झट से खुल जाती,
                                                        हर्फ़ों सी यूँ ही धुल जाती,
                                                        खारे जल में घुल- घुल जाती,
                                                        सच सी उसमे कोई बात नहीं,
                                                        ऐसे ही थी, बस,  खास नहीं

                                                        बदरी जैसे वो रो जाती
                                                        ऐसे-कैसे भी सो जाती!
                                                        गुड़िया जैसी बेहिस थी क्या?
                                                        सब संग थे पर, कोई पास नहीं,
                                                        खोयी खोयी, कुछ ख़ास नहीं।

                                                         गाने की धुन ज्यों, टूटी सी,
                                                         बच्चों जैसी, कुछ रूठी सी,
                                                         बस एक कहानी झूठी सी
                                                         बातें उसकी, अब याद नहीं
                                                         ऐसे ही थी, कुछ खास नहीं।

                                                          आफिस से घर तक की साथी 
                                                          घर तक पहुंचा कर ही जाती!
                                                          रस्ते भर इतना बतियाती
                                                          ख़ुद के बारे में बात नही
                                                          ऐसी थी वो, कुछ खास नहीं।

                                                            भूला उसको मैं पल भर में
                                                            इतनी मणियों के सागर में
                                                            दुर्लभ का मैं गुणग्राहक हूँ
                                                            साधारण नेह पर्याप्त नहीं
                                                            ऐसे ही थी, 
                                                                            ... कुछ खास  नहीं।

आभास- realization                                            हर्फ़ों- letters, alphabets
खारे जल- tears                                                    बेहिस- dead, without feelings
सच सी उसमे कोई बात नहीं- not having real worldly qualities of logic and sensibilities, someone who is intangible and virtual.
 साधारण- ordinary                                              नेह- affection
दुर्लभ- rare, (here- popular and titular)

An impromptu verse I wrote last year but the line 'kuchh khaas nahi' is borrowed from some couplets I came across on internet. Or may be a newspaper magazine! Things are hazy except this 'radeef' and the essence of those couplets.



Somewhat confused, looking for something,
.. lost, on a detour probably, 
You stumbled in my life and I tied you here.
Smiling and pleased, 
I treasured you like the other half of the sphere
between reverie and dreams, beyond time, across distance,
in that sheen on my lips, like that star in my eyes, 
in my soul, my dear.

I wondered if you were ever true, 
yet, with you alone, to the bleakest place,
 I would have gone
To see that lit up face of yours, at times, I ignored the humiliating pain.

I loved the banter, being daft and inane, Neverland it was where to the moon and back was my affection for thou,
And my name with yours...
uttered in the same breath,
to hear that, I would have tied... 
rubies from the Gul-Mohar  boughs

Then, the kind truth dawned, not a revealation; I knew it all along...
You are wind, you are moon, can't be tied, can't be held, in a place for long..

shards of dreams still prick my eyes... singe my heart,
As I weep bitterly with stifled cries  
O wanderer, you won, 
You are free, so am I.
But reverie or dreams, happiness or smile... 
I now have none.



Anticipation... the best hope, the best joy one can ever have before being hit by ANY reality.
Anticipation is the celebration of that feeling that our hearts still have desires..That we still have a bucket full of  wishes left, which can cause butterflies to flutter mad in our tummies and goosebumps to convert our translucent smooth skin into a spiked up surface of that rougned up rogue moon! To get these jitters, this feeling just by a mere thinking about our wish list, our desires, our hopes and the future is wonderful!

Buddha says not to give in to desires, not to have them in the first place but, my understanding or may be, my alleged denial syndrome to deny things which I don't like, make me understand him this way that he never asked to tame them either.
He meant to conquer them.
To have them but not to be a slave to them. Just like the Hindu scriptures-त्याग सहित भोग। To savour without getting attached, to relish and appreciate while staying free!

Similar freedom I experience with this word anticipation.

Anticipate that family  trip, that one meeting, that one date, that one excrusion, that perfect lecture... Don't expect or invest precious life energies thinking about the outcome.
Enjoy the preparations, the journey, even the wait.

Krishna says, " karmne vadhikaraste ma faleshu kadachana"
To perform the karma with utmost sincerety and perfection and, not to worry over the result!

Gospel says, "In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade."  (1 Peter 1:3b-6)

To me somehow everything boils down to the same that is, not to expect but enjoy that tingling of anticipation with a bated breath, and excited fervour but yet an unbelievably calm mind. To understand that Life is not what we are planning , trying and expecting it to be but , it is what is happening right then when we are busy planning it out!  Remember those times when you were packing bags for a short two day trip  brimming with that joyful anticipation of what's in store? Or those bridal tears and bridal laughter infected with nervous anticipation for the new life!
Life happens and we are bound to relish every experience if we alter out perspective just like we adjust the mirror to avoid or let in the sun in the kaleidoscope as per our whim.

There's is nothing which is bad, just different. Anticipate for the best... It's dreamily real.

Image : sunshineblueclouds


खाली मन : Full of Emptiness


                                                                  रुपहले चाँद से झूठा,
                                                                  जेठ की धूप से तपता
                                                                  तेरा आना तेरा जाना

                                                                  करौंदे सी हरी खट्टी,
                                                                  कसैले नीम से कड़वी
                                                                  तेरी बातें तेरी चुप्पी

                                                                  फसल से लहलहा बढ़ते 
                                                                  सुनहले धान से जगमग
                                                                  तेरे किस्से तेरे वादे

                                                                 कड़कती ठंड से चुभते,
                                                                  बर्फ़ के फाहे जैसे सर्द...
                                                                  तेरे ताने तेरे शिक़वे

                                                                 समंदर से बड़ी खाई,
                                                                 पहाड़ों जैसी संगदिल सख़्त
                                                                 तेरी वो ज़िद, वो खुदगर्ज़ी

                                                                 और, राह के फूल सा तनहा
                                                                 कुम्हलाए से, दिन गिनते
                                                                 ये खाली मन, भरे नैना

Image : From my sketch-book

चुप्पी - silence                                                                                                                      बर्फ़ के फाहे - snowflakes                                                         ताने- gibes, humiliation                                                                                                                          संगदिल - stone hearted
राह के फूल- roadside wildflower                                                                                     तनहा- lonely
कुम्हलाए-  withered and downcast                                                                                   खाली मन- bleak heart 

ग़ुलाब- The Rose

                 ग़ुलाब एक...                                    डॉयरी के पन्नों में,                                     कोयल ने फिर कुह...