अध्-उमरी

बचपन से ही खुली हवा में
विचरने की आदत सी थी
स्कूल बस में
किनारे वाली खिड़की पर बैठने की बात होती
हाँफते हुए, पीठ पर बस्ते का बोझ
लपक कर बैठ जाता, और
लोहे की रॉड पकड़कर
अध्-खुली खिड़की से
बाहर झाँकने की कोशिश करता

आज भी अध्-उमरी में भी
यह कसक जिन्दा है
हवाई यात्रा की कमियों को
बंद खिड़कियों से जब देखता हूँ, तो
पॉयलट के बाल सफेद नज़र आने लगते हैं
उम्र से डर किसको नहीं लगता
अब सबकुछ बंद-बंद सा प्रतीत होता है

PLOUGH THE GRAVE

Rubbing your memories; aloud
On a flourescent screen of my computer
I bit my fingers on my keyboard
The dab of an equivocal kind

Rueful use of calligraphic letters
Availed no use to me
Memories sticks out in a distance
Punctilious of your beguiling form

I contrite at the flashing shapes
The shattered bits and bytes
Keeping hangover still afresh
To the pivotal joint of my neck

I stomp out the arena of square means
Hording my heart with ink in red
Some memories echoed images to my eyes
Some more, plough the grave of my heart

NO PLOVER SANG

All the world
Eared my silence
No came near

No plover sang
To my silting heart
Strewn with cowrie lines

Channels gouged
ebbing of my heart
Bindweed embossing dull

Brooch glitters; still
on somebody's heart
A lichen to my gravel bed

The world a doctor
A patient, dead;
A naked surgeon gasp

AN APRON IN A WHIRL

The whole Cosmos
A deep well, upturned
Rope the luminaries
of my soul;
A matrix of illusion
playing through my breath
As Rumi dances
His apron in a whirl

SOFT DRINKS

Dry thoughts, enveloped
inside two empty bottles
of soft drinks
placed side by side
akin to cousins
Cheeks of orange flavour, and
appy juice
Handsome and beautiful

Whose moustache
took energy
Out of an open cork
with noise and gurgle
Sipping energy
In a single draught

Bereft of
All that was, pulpy and juicy;
It brew cocktail
of anger and thirst, and
with all un-even means
Started juggling and fermenting
Words, of an unofficial kind
In its empty world

NIGHT GESTALT

Switch on the light of my room
In the middle of the night
As I defend my position, accommodating
Pluralities of the mind
Wakeful, and still asleep
Writing and contemplating
The injustices done to my dreams

The night is the better alternative
To deal with unreasonable choices
Traded pitifully in the broad day light
Ideal of gasping breath, and
The night gestalt
Electric meter disc, rotating
Down the side wall of an old balcony

सत्य

साप्ताहिकी सत्य का पढ़कर

मन विप्लव हुआ जाता है

अनगिनत अँधेरे को चीर कर

ह्रदय आकाशगंगा हुआ जाता है

RIPPLES OF FAITH

Sing; sing
by your longest string
The crave of my heart

Tearful,
of my longing
I over bear my painful heart

In what form
I shall find your grace
As I dis-orb my every partaking

Madly, I run
By my bowl
Mirroring you in a drop

Mutely
You stand by your dark appearance
Fearful of my wasted life

Weave; weave
by you longest weft
The loom of my warped space

Tearful,
I hang here
Counting ripples of your faith

POT A PLANT

How I pot
my seed
Into a full bloom

The longer
I keep nourishing you,
You keep on
wilting my dreams

THE MAVERICK

He was losing
track of his time
In floating pain

Playing maverick
the levels of his consciousness
with Varying intensity

A conglomerate cacophony
sounded, difference
In the air

Prognosis was of no use
When the end was near, and
He died peacefully

HOBBIT TO MY HEART

Those words
of silent breed
Petaled
Across the flowery air

Reposed off
the burden
Sinew
to tendons in space

New energy synced in
Hobbit to my heart
Grouping roseberry
Sweet and plum

AMEND

O Man,
Whose breath is
Rocking the cradle
In the lap of death
Live; now
Hark!
Now make time
While you be
To make amend,
Your terms with eternity

UPLAND FREEDOM

It augurs much
To transbound, self
In evolving fire
When semblance
Saunter in vanity
In bodily existence

Upland freedom
Flutters fresh
In unhinged form
Through the eyes of windows

Those lands
of wondrous imagery
Upkeep my dreams awake