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Yes its sinking in.. Rank 40, CSE 2015.The UPSC circle- the close and the beginning.

Bagh-e-Bahisht Se Mujhe Hukam-e-Safar Diya Tha Kyun Kaar-e-Jahan Daraz Hai, Ab Mera Intezar Kar                      - Mohammad...

Saturday, April 22, 2017

In my entireness.


I miss you in the silence of the dusk,
which the noise of this city-town keeps breaking.

I miss you in the noise of this city-town,
which always leaves my heart crying and aching.

I miss you in the aching of my heart,
and it peeks as moisture from my weary eyes.

I miss you in my weary eyes craving for a peaceful sleep,
and making efforts for it tireless.
And there, yes there,
I miss you,in my entireness.


"तेरी शफ़कत थी , या कोई आज़ाब था ?
ये पता न चला, इब्तिदा कब हुई , कब मुक़म्मल हुआ।"

ps- शफ़कत - affection
आज़ाब - deluge, flood
इब्तिदा - beginning
मुक़म्मल - completion, totality

Monday, April 10, 2017

Between language and silence.


" मेरे हर हर्फ़ को, हर मेरे अलफ़ाज़ को,
तोलता सौ ज़ुबानों में , हर मेरे  एहसास को,
थक गया था मैं, जग की ये क्या रीत है।

पर ज़ुबां से तेरी जो मुख़ातिब हुआ,
तो ये जाना किया,
- मेरी ख़ामोशियों में भी संगीत है। -

कोई शफ़कत है ये ?
या अक़ीदत कोई ?
दे बता ऐ ख़ुदा।
ऐ ख़ुदा , दे बता।


मेरे बचपन से मुझमें , 

मुसलसल सा है ...
मेरी माँ का मुझे , हाँ वो हर रोज़ ही
तू सुनाया हुआ, हाँ वो परियों भरा
- रात का गीत है। -

तू मेरा कौन है?
मैं तेरा कौन हूँ ?
कौन अरमान है? 
कौन अनजान है ?
दे बता , ऐ ख़ुदा
ऐ  खुदा, दे बता ...

"To that question,
as to why I loved talking to him
day and night.
Because,
 He could talk to me
- mind to mind - 
 - thought to thought - 
- light to light - "

ps-  wrote something in Urdu after a long time.
हर्फ़ in urdu means : letter
अलफ़ाज़ : word
मुख़ातिब : to converse with
शफ़कत: affection
अक़ीदत : devotion
मुसलसल:  continuous, eternal

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Usually.


"तू मेरे गीत का कौनसा लफ्ज़ है?
मैंने तुझको कभी, हाँ लिखा भी नहीं। "
No.
Not in these places.
I find you in spaces
of me,
that I don't usually traverse.
And see you building hamlets there.

Lets build a boat.
And sail away
to those places
those spaces
of you
you don't usually traverse.
"तू मेरे गीत का, कौनसा लफ्ज़ है ?
मैंने तुझको कभी, हाँ लिखा भी नहीं। 
गुनगुनाता भी है ,मेरे एहसास में ,
कागज़ों पर मेरे, दीखता भी नहीं 
तू मेरा कौन है ?
मै तेरा कौन हूँ ?
कौन अरमान है ?
कौन अनजान है ?
 ए खुदा , दे बता 
दे बता , ए  ख़ुदा.."
ps: To Unworldly.

Friday, March 24, 2017

To mountains, with love.



Far away on those mountains, I see a small chalet, and there, a woman smiling at me with limpid eyes. She looks familiar. Like I can see myself in her, just a little older and wiser. 

Her eyes tell me she has traversed these paths before, and felt their soul. I can sense stories reeking out of her enchanting smile. Stories of love and loss, despondency and hope, of trust, of laughter, of togetherness, written right here, amidst these hills.

Stories deprived of language, but containing within them all that music is. Stories sans alphabet. For all that was to be said, had been spoken amidst these mountains once. And understood. Absorbed. Between dusk and night. Between coffee and wine. Between sound and meaning. Between emotion and embrace.

As these stories reach me, a strange mountain breeze blows from somewhere and my hair and scarf drift me ahead. I feel myself borne onward along a force whose source seems to be in all that is, in the very beginning of things, in the core which sustains us. I am drawn towards the mountains and as the breeze reaches my ears, I can hear what those two brown wise eyes and one enchanting smile on the other side have to say to me -


" Live. All that is here and now, is yours. Nothing more. Nothing less. Live. One day, you'll understand. And you'll smile, with wet limpid eyes. That day, you'll melt in these mountains, become one with them. After all, its for the molten magma inside, that the mountains rise. Live. "




"इन पहाड़ों में लिपटी हुई 
एक सुबह है यहाँ,
और एक शाम है 
मै इसी का तो हूँ,
इसमें खो जाऊंगा। 
इसका हो जाऊंगा। 

क्यों धुआं हैं यहाँ ?,क्या हुआ है यहाँ ?
क्या मेरा आसमाँ, मुझसे नाराज़ है?
क्या ये मेरी ज़मीं, मुझसे नासाज़ है?
मै इसी का तो हूँ,
इसमें खो जाऊंगा। 
इसका हो जाऊंगा। 

आसमाँ जब मिलेगा धरा से,
कुछ बारिशों में कहीं,
हाँ इसी का तो हूँ ,
मै बरस जाऊँगा  
तुझमें बस जाऊँगा। 

तुझमें सो जाऊँगा 
तेरा हो जाऊँगा। "

PS: wrote prose after a long time. Got reminded of something I wrote years back... Those two brown twinkling eyes.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

This silence needs a healing.


This silence rushes like water
- spills and spreads -
through all the paths, 
it carefully treads..
This silence meanders.
Boulders and cobbles and pebbles and clay
whirl through its dreams and fears.

This silence is a river,
Whom its own debris keeps peeling.
This silence needs 
- a healing -

This silence combusts like a flame,
burning red and orange and yellow and white.
This silence flickers.
It is shivering in its own light.

This silence is an ignited gas
trapped between
- concealing and revealing -
This silence needs
- a healing -

This silence is an aching bird,
who's wings are melting away.
Will the sky hold it?
The bird still breathes, it is still feeling.
This silence needs
- a healing -

Monday, March 13, 2017

The colliding elements.

"क्या तुम इन पानियों में घुल गए हो ?
या मैं सागर-सा तुम पर गिरने लगा हूँ ? "

Have you dissolved 
in me 
- as blue -
oh sky!
Or have I begun, 
to fall 
- on you -
releasing myself 
from all 
gravity?

Photograph: Clicked near Lakshadweep, India.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Because I had been searching.

"मैंने ढूंढा है, हाँ तुझको ; सारे जग में , सबमें , मुझमें 
पल-पल , दिन- दिन , हफ़्तों-हफ़्तों , सालों- सालों 
...................... सदियाँ -सदियाँ।  
 कोई खोया-सा बच्चा जैसे; हो ढूंढ रहा इस सागर में 
तत्पर-तत्पर , बेचैन- बेचैन ,बिस्मिल-बिस्मिल, बेकल- बेकल 
 ......................अपनी परियाँ।  "

Photograph: taken at Bangaram island, Lakshadweep, India
बिस्मिल - wounded
बेकल - distraught
तत्पर- ready, ripe

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Winning or losing.

It was never about you winning or you losing. It was all about making you better.
And then, did you actually want it so easy?
Burn.
It was not about victory taking away all your darkness. It never can.
It was all about making you the light.
It was never about you winning or you losing.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Made of the same material.

Right at that moment I wanted to feel the sea. Know it complete. Touch all that was buried inside his heart. Difficult he was.

But believe me, it was like having found a friend who knows your melancholy, stirs it up, brings you face to face with your own turbulence. As if both of you were made up of the same material.

Its all water you see.
I wanted to cry in his blue arms. But I stood there smiling with wet eyes.
Its all water you see