Thursday, July 13, 2017

किन बातों की

न जाने किन बातों की 
कमी रह जाती है
आँखों से
जब आसमान में
लहू सी
एक बुंद टपक जाती है

Sunday, July 9, 2017


These images
Play with me
My table, my chair, my broom, my door
My windows, my nails, my shoes, my comb
My money plant, my bicycle, my concrete walls
Mutely nodding in affirmation
How lively they bond with me
Like my own, like an antibiotic cream
as they know their time and their usefulness:
How could they be of my help in my need
Anathema to biblical voice "God helps those who helps themselves"
Helping others, without any segregation or slavery;
Away from those voices
from papyrus and computer screen
Hieroglyphic images worth their deciphering, and
Typed words worth their aesthetics
The pharaoh or the modern gizmo

Notion that gives value to my images
Typed meaning only give marks
"Images helps all by their hidden worth"


Who spread the linen
Over the body of sofa
As I was waiting
for that universal traveller
to take me in his talk
Showing gravity of curve
while he sat
And, bewildered
I saw
the closing of my eyes
As he drove me
In direction
I never knew where

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Nature that 'I' Pretends

Take a leaf
by its silence
wading down the earth
A remorse;
A harse wind howl

All ripeness
has a yellow flavour
Sweetness falling down
Sagging skin;
An old age adage

Take it one
by all faith
The one born
Will get a whip;
Either animal or plant

All past
has one way to go
One more dimension to extend
A timber or a corpse;
A tree or nature that 'I' pretends


If all my desire
gets fulfilled
The moon will fly
like a butterfly
The Sun will bear
Golden fruits
All weeping will be
sweet tears
All pain will bear
smile of the heart
All lost will find
A coupon in his pocket

If all that
I will miss
Will miss your great heart
Hidden inside the grave
Will miss your touch
In one length of your palm
Will miss old friends
Pal of my youthful days
Will miss your loving eyes
Blinded by cataract
Will miss our bath together
Swimming in the river

If all is
What Is
Let me do penance
for one guilt of my own
That I have a desire
That works its fulfillment
That I have a heart
That bleed humanity
That I have silent undertaking
That dove peace
That I blare, trumpet and ring
The sounds of heavenly voice

एक स्वांश की ज़िग्र होने तक

एक मूक परे
खूरदरे पत्थर की तालाश में
भटकता रहा मन, की 
समय की मार ने
बनाया होगा बीदेह
किसी नदी किनारे, असहाय
पड़ा होगा
अपनी चोट को निहारते हुये
अंगीनत लहरों की मार को
अपने अन्दर समाये हुये
दाग की गहराई नापते हुये
एक मूक पड़े पत्थर की
नुमाईन्दगी चाहिये
अपने आप को समझने के लिये
वहीं से भार है
वहीं से वार भी
एक स्वांश की ज़िग्र होने तक

एक जिंदगी

एक ख़लूस सी जिंदगी
पैमाने की नाप है
किसे कहूँ 
जो एक प्रमाण है
उपोह है
रंगों के मेल का
एक वही है
रात के उपहार का
दंभ है
जो ओझल है
निशा श्याह सा