Featured Post

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...

Friday, November 23, 2018

The carbon you are made up of.


A teak leaf fallen on the ground like this may be different experiences for different people. Some may see it as a mark of autumn. For some it may be gravity. Few would get into the decay chemistry leading to soil formation. It may remind many of their separation with a loved one. 

Then there are few who can hear the sound of the fall on the earth, of the wind blowing on the leaf and the leaf hugging those blue and red and green pebbles.  Those who can see the beauty of the veins playing modern art on a yellow canvas. Those who will pick it up, talk to it, smile and then set it free to fly with the wind. 

Those who know it belongs to the earth. It is the earth. So are we.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Lovestory.

This is a story
of expectations.
You think
'I' love the wine.
I think
'you' love the me I become
when I have gulped it down with you.
This is a story
of love.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Where the head is held high.


If you can board that train and say goodbye 
even when the numbness of her cold hand 
doesn't let it rise to you.

If you can reach your house 
knowing that she would keep loitering on station platforms before reaching hers.

If you can stay in that house angry
saying you are solving problems, 
without having solved what you left behind you at the station.

If you can keep getting angry over her past that can't be changed, knowing that you are burning your own present, and hers.

If you keep smothering the self confidence she gained after so much of toil,

Either she will diminish and die.
Or she'll pick herself up again,
keep walking in this mad crowd.
Cold and alone. But with her head held high.

No love which diminishes you is love.



Thursday, August 9, 2018

The twins.

पहाड़ों- पठारों 
की सुबहों और शामों 
को ढकते अंधेरों 
से बहते उजालों 
से हर रोज़, पल- पल
रिसते सवालों
में चुपचाप बैठी....

मेरी ज़िन्दगी है। 

है बनती- बिगड़ती
उजड़ती- सँवरती
तपती - सुलग़ती
जमती - ठिठुरती 
थिरकती - मचलती
सिहरती - उफ़नती 
सौ रंग बुनती ,

तेरे हर्फ़ सुनती 
मीलों को गिनती 
लम्हों को सालों  
सालों मिसालों 
को धागों में बिनती 

तेरे राग जैसी , 
तेरी आग जैसी ,
...मेरी ज़िन्दगी है। 

Sunday, July 22, 2018

All that glitters.

You put your life's savings to buy gold and diamonds and jewels for some grand ceremony someday. Ahh. If I could show you what real jewels look like. And what it feels like to adorn them. 
And they had been put here for us all.


Monday, June 25, 2018

Wild.

My words
run out of breath
thinking
of the silence of
- yellow afternoons -
spent with you
on pine roads
cutting through a mountain.

That day,

when
our silence
runs out of breath,
WON'T WE?
plant us
- as seeds -
on these pine roads.
Those that grow
Wild.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Essays on love - You rain on me.


बारिश की बूंदों सा तू आज मुझपर बरस फिर रहा है 
धरा को गगन से , मुझे मेरे मन से  दरस कर रहा है। 

तू है कौन जिसने ?
मेरी हर सुबह को 
हरा कर दिया है। 

तू है कौन जिसने 
खाली से मन को 
भरा कर दिया है। 

तू  है कौन जिसने 
मुझी को मुझी  से 
बड़ा कर दिया है। 

तू है कौन जिसने 
इबादत को मेरा 
ख़ुदा कर दिया है... 
ख़ुदा कर दिया है। 

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Essays on love.

And one day,
Your hand touched mine.
And everything became
- the beginning -
Like moss.
Like rain.
Like forest.

Monday, April 9, 2018

Of erosions

Because I have stories carved on my skin.
And they have made me what I have been.
                                             - The eyes that found me.