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

Silence can be music.

Silently approaching winters 
and suspended fog over fallen dew
bubble in me
- tales -
of train journeys,
of coffee.
of ink.
and sometimes you.

Silence
is not always
the absence of music.
It just depends
on what you choose to do.

Either you reach the music
hidden in 'their' silence.
Or you let silence make music
every moment, inside you.

Photograph: Clicked @George Everest, Musoorie

The said and the unsaid.

"कैसे मैं तुम्हे कह दूँ बोलो ,ये  बात नहीं अल्फ़ाज़ों की 
ये रसमुलखत का खेल नहीं, ये बात है बस एहसासों की 
आँखों में मेरे ये रक्स करे  
मिल जायेगी इन पलकों के तले 
- ये रिसती हुई -
- ये उड़ती हुई -

तुम बस छू दो इसको आँखों से अपनी 
- दानिश मैं नहीं - "

How do I speak or write to you?

This is not a thing of words.

This is no play of alphabets.

This is just something to be sensed

- Known -

- Explored -

- Absorbed -

It dances right here in my eyes.

If only you come searching

You shall find it

Beneath my eyelashes

- leaking - 

- flickering -

Yet intact.

If only you could touch it with your eyes

Because I am not

- direct -

Picture source: Clicked by me on the way to binog hill, Musoorie
रसमुलखत : An urdu word meaning alphabets
दानिश  : Direct

The unfinished painting you grow into...

All I need is a piece of paper,

and some charcoal or sharpened graphite,

to paint you,

in words.

Monochrome, my painting.

Conscientious my efforts,

as I try to draw,

the edges of your unlived dreams,

which rustle as leaves,

as they talk to me

and stare innocently at the white sky...

And then it does not end.

For you never stop there.

You expand.

You grow

and you become the forest.

I stare at my fingers and the charcoal.

dumbfounded.

picture source https://www.pinterest.com/pin/491525746809337279/