Happy new year!

Faceless void, rapacious throng

jostling bodies, pulsating song

Bacchus entrailed minds

strobe lighting that blinds

words uttered, meanings drowned

strangers all, though friends abound

arrhythmic, gyrating the moves

predatory stance of wolves

lives fragmented, delusions of gaiety

facile bonds, sacrificed to frailty  

time stands like a sentinel

and yet futile they revel

the clock strikes the midnight hour

they ring out one, bring in another...

saraab...

इस सफ़र का मुक़म्मल अंजाम नहीं तो क्या

ये कारवाँ इत्त्फाकन उस गली से गुज़रा तो सही

उनकी महफ़िल में अब हम अजनबी तो क्या

रिफाक़त की उम्रे गुरेज़ाँ से वाकिफ हुए तो सही

उनकी जानिब अब लफ्ज़ किसी और के तो क्या
हमें अर्जे हालात नहीं, ख़ामोशी की बहाली तो सही

आईना चूर हुआ, अक्स बेशक्ल हुआ तो क्या
चंद लम्हात को  हम खुद से मुखातिब हुए तो सही

वो जो हमें सह़ाब लगे, सराबे सहरा निकले तो क्या
खुश्क दरिया में लहू बहा सफीनों को साहिल दिया तो सही



(रिफाक़त = friendship, उम्रे गुरेज़ाँ = short life, बहाली = freedom, मुखातिब = face to face, सह़ाब = clouds,
सराब = mirage , सहरा = desert, सफीना= boat)

In Passing...

How deep the abyss,

for hopes to be interred..

how scathing the rapier,

for dreams to be shred..

how dense the darkness,

for fate to be endured..

how shallow the words,
for faith to be doused..
how fleeting the moment,
for time to be rued..
how frail the threads,
for ties to be rend...

dastoor..

यह वक़्त का कैसा दैरीने  दस्तूर है

ज़िन्दगी मुसलसल  रिश्तों से मजबूर है

चारागरी लफ़्ज़ों की ज़र्ब पे यूँ तो ज़रूर है
पर जो रिसता  है वो दिल में छिपा  नासूर है

हिम्मत का कैसा ये बदगुमान गुरूर  है
फलक लगे जिसे बस चंद कदम दूर है

आँखों में इम्काने उड़ान -ए- तुयूर है
पर क़दमों तले रेज़ा -ओ- ख्वाबे चूर है

परस्तिश का कैसा ये महवे सुरूर है
मुन्किर को भी बुत से वफ़ा मंज़ूर है

तीरगी किस्मत की कौन सी  वफूर है
अब तो ज़ुल्मत में जुग्नूयों से भी  नूर है



(दैरीना = old, मुसलसल = continuously, चारागरी = treatment, ज़र्ब = wound, इमकान = possibility, तुयूर = bird, रेज़ा = piece, परस्तिश = prayer, ज़ुल्मात, तीरगी  = darkness)

Khalish..

सारे रिश्ते छूट जाएँ भी तो

दर्द से तर्के मरासिम मुमकिन नहीं ?

वफ़ाए तिश्नगी से बहल जाएँ भी तो

वक्ते दैरीना से मजबूर कब दिलगीर नहीं?

ग़म पे पिन्दारे शिकस्त का गुमान जो

आँधियों पे शमा की सक़त की बस काविश ही?

इनागीर ने बख्शी तारीके पारीना जो

ये चश्म बेगिर्या पर खलिश यूँ ही सही?

ये पादाशे किस्मत आम है, समझाएं वो

पर दोशीना-ए-तीरगी ताउम्र हो, क्या यह वफूर नहीं?

मुसलसल शिकस्तो रेज़ा ये रूह होती हो

और किसी ग़मगुसार को इस आह की तौकीर नहीं?

(तर्के मरासिम = breaking of relationship, तिश्नगी = hope, दैरीना = past, दिलगीर = sad, पिन्दार = arrogance, सक़त = force/power, काविश = attempt, इनागीर = one holding the reins, पारीना = that which has passed by, बेगिर्या  = without tears, पादाश = punishment, दोशीना = bedroom, तीरगी = darkness, वफूर = extreme, मुसलसल = continuous,  शिकस्त = defeat, रेज़ा = pieces, ग़मगुसार= partner in sadness, तौकीर  = respect )

An ode to a lost friend..

Like the wispy mist that lingers

amongst the dark dense foliage

even though the sun shines bright..

Like dawn's strong steady fingers

sifting through the cloudy plumage

to pry open the doors of  night...

Like the lone star that flickers

uncowering, undaunted its courage

long after darkness has taken flight..

Like spring's last flowering asters

upright in their sprightly carriage

haunting the mind's eye with delight...

Like the raindrop that glitters

before surrender to earth's bondage

moving the soul; its destined plight...

memory within me glimmers

of every soul that left the harborage;

a beacon in my heart ever alight..

namanzuri..

जब कुर्ब का अंजाम बस कर्ब ही हो

तो खिल्वते ग़म  ही मंज़ूर रहे 

जिस की बज़्म में हर नज़्म महरूम हो

उस से बस फासलये हिज्र ही रहे

जिस उनवान में तारीक़ तमाम हो

ऐसी इब्तदा को तिश्नगी ही नसीब रहे

जब इबादत का खुदा बस संग ही हो

तो रुस्वते काफिर ही मंज़ूर रहे

जिसकी आश्नाई में इश्क बस मुन्तजिर ही हो

उस मरासिम को तुर्बत ही मंज़ूर रहे

जिस  मंजिल का  रास्ता  ही गुम हो
उस पर काफिले क्यूँ कर गुज़र रहे
जब मुक़द्दर लकीरों  में ही सिमटा हो
ऐसी किस्मत को दोज़ख ही मंज़ूर रहे
जो जज़्बात सुखन की कफस में ही हो
अब उसे वजूदे सराब ही मंज़ूर रहे




(कुर्ब = closeness, कर्ब = sorrow, खिलवाते ग़म = sorrow of seperation, उनवान = beginning,
संग = stone, मुन्तजिर = in waiting, तुर्बत = grave, सुखन = thoughts, कफस = prison, सराब = mirage)

racing..

F-1 has been the flavour of the season in the Indian Subcontinent this year. Everyone who is or seeks to be someone was out there, looking for a piece of the action. I can understand the presence of celebrities; it provides them with a huge canvas to market their product i.e. themselves. Then there are the car lovers who, with all their passion for the machines, would just be as happy to gape at them sans the race or the smell of burning rubber or the sound of screeching tyres. But what of the common lot, clueless about the make of the car or the driver within, the nuances of the race and the history thereof? Was it just the adrenalin rush that drove them in hordes to the track, to cough up whatever their pockets could and maybe not even get a glimpse up close of the race or the racers?

As I see it, arent we at a micro level doing exactly that in our lives; racing around tracks all our lives. Maybe it is the identification to this subconscious admittance that drives us to the races. The difference of course lies in the fact that, in a car race as this, we can be observers and derive our thrills from the dangers , the twists and turns being undertaken by others. Wouldnt it , however, be equally exciting if we could learn to do that in the race of life that most of us are a part of? The perils and risks then wouldn't threaten us so and we would be free to just watch from  a detached vantage point and laud at the finishing line instead of dreading it or ruing the outcome. This race would then have no losers at all...

....

When there is nothing and no one else, there is Silence. The one companion who is but a thought away. In the midst of every strife, in all of one's traumas or the most peaceful or joyful times, the moment I cherish most is when I am able to step away from it all, with just silence besides and inside of me and feel the intensity right down to my soul. If  I were to assign imagery to silence, to give it a form, I would think of it as a cloud. A warm, billowing, soothing , downy cloud that envelops and gathers one in its midst. It cushions the heart and heals from all hurt and malice, it protects, providing an armour against deception and betrayal and it moistens the calcification in one's soul, built by the vagaries of human temperaments and transactions. 

In the evergrowing aural tempo of the world, I have found it increasingly difficult to commune with Silence. The ethereal silence of each breaking dawn which is like a remnant of divinity is fragmented by the ringing of bells in temples, the chanting of mantras, the singing of bhajans etc. ; all supposed means of salvation or the source of finding the fount of eternal peace! A Silent person per se is looked at askance; there is either an aura of mystery, aloofness or lack of intelligence attached. A common question when someone is silent - "Is everything OK?" . It is beyond my comprehension how one can not be 'Okay' in wilful silence. If silence is to be a by-product of solitude, I would willingly choose to isolate myself from the trappings of a world so enchanted by oral acoustics and retreat to a place where there is  a minimised need for empty words.

However, since there are acts to perform, duties to fulfil and roles to confirm to, this option is not easily available. So I have built an alternate world inside of me, a kind of parallel reality and while the functional part of me dwells in the so called 'real' world, the real 'ME' lives in that world of my creation. And it is here that I can retreat to, at any time, any place, from any situation. I can view, from the vantage point of the everlasting Silence that exists there, all that happens with me in the real world. I have learnt to step outside of myself  and be an observer to my own life from my alternate reality, accompanied by faithful Silence to calm and engulf me with its reassuring presence. All of the cosmic manifestations then seem to be in unison with a greater whole and Silence is the door that shall lead me through, to the other side...

qaid..

ज़िन्दगी का एक अँधेरा कमरा है

वहां है मेरा कुछ खोया हुआ सामान भी

पैबंद लगी वक़्त की चादर से ढका है

हिफाज़त से छुपा हुआ सब, अब भी

इक टूटी हुई तिरछी सी अलमारी है

जिसका कोई भी खाना ख़ाली नहीं

हर पिंजरे में क़ैद कोई कहानी है

अरसों हुए बीत गयी,अब तक गुजरी नहीं

इक घुटी हुई सिसकती सी आवाज़ है

चंद ज़ख्म, कुछ नासूर, हमलावार खंजर भी

आँखों से टपका लाचार सा एक मोती है

रिश्तों की डोरें, उनमे पड़ी सब गिरहें भी

इक बिखरा बचपन कहीं उदास बैठा है

लिए सवाल कई, हासिल जिसको जवाब नहीं

आवारा सी भटकती बेचैन जवानी है

हर मोड़ पर गुमराह, मिली जिसे मंजिल नहीं

किसी का उधार का एक खिलौना है

एक पुरानी किताब, कोरे औराक़ अब भी

बेलगाम उडी थी, ऐसी बेबस कटी पतंग है

चुभते हुए कुछ खर हैं, गुल के इंतज़ार में अब भी

आईने की दरारों में एक अन्जान शक्ल है

कुछ क़दमों के निशाँ, मंजिल तक जो पहुंचे नहीं

किसी कोने में सहमा हुआ मेरा इक ख्वाब है

सायों से वो मरासिम,जिनके थे कोई वजूद नहीं

जाने क्यूँ आज इस देहलीज़ पर नज़र पड़ी है

ज़माना हुआ पर दस्तक-इ-इंतज़ार में है अब भी

अन्दर कहीं एक दहकता हुआ दिल भी है

कुर्बत की चाह में पर तगाफुल-इ-नसीब अब भी

firaaq

तुमने भी इस अफ़साने को अजब सा मोड़ दिया है

ऐतबार से हमारा कुछ इस तरह रिश्ता तोड़ दिया है

जाने वाले तो चले ही जाते हैं मगर

तुमने सरे आम एक मरासिम को नीलाम किया है

हमने कब मजबूरियों का तुम्हारी हिसाब किया है

हर शर्ते वफ़ा की गिरफ्त से तुम्हे आज़ाद किया है

गर्दिशे अय्याम समझते रहे मगर

तुमने तो उल्फत की हर रस्म को उजाड़ दिया है

वस्ल से अब हमें इस हद तक बेज़ार कर दिया है

फ़िराक़ का ताउम्र हमें यूँ  मोमन कर दिया है

राहे निजात मिल भी जाये मगर

तुमने राह बदलते रहने में दानाई का सबक दिया है

Interludes etc.

In some symphonies, like in plays, there are interludes. Their beauty lies in the fact that they are and still are not, a part of the composition but help the audience to cross over to the other half. In the canvas of an artist's creation, what the onlooker beholds is the subject or object of the creation. But there lies a backdrop, a motif or pattern which enhances the value of the subject. This is the beauty often overlooked by many. When the autumn leaves fall away they evoke a sense of nostalgia, like the parting of a dear friend because in that  last resplendent raiment of the trees, one senses that though new ones will come back, those that were, never will. When two ships pass at sea, they dip their beacons in a kind of  salute and move on. If you have stood on the deck and watched, it isn't just about a ship that sailed away, it sometimes feel like a friend lost forever in the vast expanse. I have a home on the hills and when I stand on the mountaintop, under the clear star bedecked sky, I feel as if I could reach out and catch the stars and keep them in a box by my bed to twinkle through the night for me. And yet there is one star one could never hold or reach out to; the shooting star. You see it fall and then look around to see where it could be but you can never relive that moment again. And the shooting star remains for us as enigmatic as it always was. When it rains one can feel , smell and sense the satiation of the earth and feel nourished by it in turn. And yet what charms us most on a rainy day is that multi splendoured bow that springs up across the sky and beckons with its warmth and glow.
There is an underlying pattern to all these feelings. It is our sense of reverence for that which is evanescent. It is the nostalgia evoked by whatever is fleeting. Our most poignant thoughts are then not attached with permanence but with the transient. This could be an extension of our realisation that in the master plan we are as ephemereal and infinitesimal as a shooting star, a rainbow or a ship that sails by. And yet we are happy to strive all our lives to convert everything into a state of permanence...
Sameness brings a semblance of security to most souls. In that process, every moment of every day , which is unique by itself loses its individuality and is adorned by the garb of routine or rote. So also for relationships; all supposedly meaningful relationships must confirm to a pattern and be governed by set of dos and donts. And then we lament the demise of the spontaneity or the initial euphoria...
Wouldn't it be better to sometimes just step away from it all and be the beholder- to see the beauty of the backdrop rather than dwell on the subject, to remember the multicolored hues that were and retain the sense of nostalgia and wonder, to hold the memory in one's heart rather than to tie another down with stereotypes and mores..

intezaar

हम शिकवा करना ना सीख सके

उन्हें लगा हमे आशिकी का सलीका नहीं

कांपते हाथ जो दस्तक दे ना सके

उन्हें लगा हम उनके दीदारो- मुन्तज़िर नहीं

ठहरे कदम दहलीज़ पार कर ना सके

उन्हें लगा हम उनकी गली से गुज़रे नहीं

दुआ भी करें जो सर झुका के

उन्हें लगे की हमसा कोई मुन्किर नहीं

अब जो इंतज़ार में खामोश बैठें हैं

वो समझते हैं की हमसा कोई बेज़ार नहीं

आज मयखाने तक जो पहुँच गए

फिर काबे तक की राह का हौसला नहीं

ilteja

एक पाक हमसफ़र था मेरा

तुम्हारी आशनाई की रौशनी तले

कहीं हो गया जो जुदा मुझसे

हर एक शमा बुझा  जाओ

पर मेरी वो तन्हाई लौटा जाओ

एक कोरा सा कागज़ था मेरा

तुम्हारे इकरार के जूनून से

लिखे उस पर कुछ फ़साने नए

हर एक हर्फ़ मिटा जाओ

पर मेरा वो अधूरा सा मन लौटा जाओ

एक थमा हुआ समुन्दर था मेरा

तुम्हारे एहसास के तूफ़ान से

उठे सैलाब जिसकी गहराई में

हर एक लहर दफना जाओ

पर मेरा ठहरा हुआ दिल लौटा जाओ

एक बेदाग़ सा आइना था मेरा

छिपाए हुए कई चेहरे मेरे

कुछ अंदाज़ तुमने भी देखे थे

हर एक तस्वीर मिटा जाओ

पर मेरा वो भूला अक्स लौटा जाओ

एक बेरंग सा उफक था मेरा

तुमने कुछ तारे जड़े

हमने भी शरर रौशन किये

हर एक महताब फूंक जाओ

पर मेरी वो स्याह सी रात लौटा जाओ

एक बहका हुआ अब्र था मेरा

दामन में मोती समेटे हुए

तुमने भी कुछ पिरोये थे

हर एक बूँद वो उड़ा जाओ

पर मेरा वो आवारा ख्वाब लौटा जाओ

rukhsat

मंजिल पर रहे नजर तुम्हारी हमेशा

पर मील के पत्थर का भी रहे अंदेशा

जब किसी नए मोड़ पर कदम तुम बढ़ाना

गुज़रे मुसाफिर को आखरी सलाम भी देना...

 

 

ज़िन्दगी भी अजीब से मंज़र दिखाती है

कभी गुलशन तो कभी बंजर हो जाती है

तुम इसके सराबों में ना भहक जाना

हकीकत के हर पल का हक़ पर चुका जाना..

उस गली से फिर गुज़रना मुश्किल होगा

उसकी पहचान से भी अब मुकारना होगा

हिजाब के पीछे छुपी शक्ल से इनकार कर देना

पर माज़ी की तस्वीरें सब रेज़ा रेज़ा कर जाना..

सरगोशी की बातें तो अब कहानियां हैं
ख्वाबों में ही बस मिलती रानाइयां हैं

तसव्वुर की आशनाई से किनारा कर लेना

रवानगी पर मगर महबूब को इशारा कर देना...

Always

When the smile on my face

has lost its grace

and faded into a memory 

with a sepia tinted hue

I'll still be smiling

knowing the sun shines on you

and lights up your days

guiding you on your destined ways..

When the thoughts I share

are just yesterday's fare

and remain as mere words

once cherished and heard

I'll still be thinking

sharing your precious mind

hoping for you to find

a way to the stars, riding the wind...

When the song of my soul

seems jaded and droll

and no longer make you dance

the chords just strain and stop

I'll still be singing

hearing the music that makes you hop

wishing you a symphony

to bring blissful music and harmony...

When the love of my heart

is no longer of you, a part

and you paint new pictures

leaving behind this hazy sketch

I'll still be loving

praying for the angels to fetch

a radiant halo from their fold

to engulf you with care and there to hold...

A missive..

Dear Heart,

          Let the sun shine through. It breaks me to see you so sad and blue. You need never be lonely for I'll be there, on the other side of every moment, every day.Give me your pain and I'll wish it all away. When I was sent to this world, to live in this form and frame, I'm sure HE thought I would never know, just the same, but I knew I wasn't whole. He kept back a part of my soul. I yearned to find the words to complete my thoughts, to create a rhapsody that would unravel the mysterious notes. And then you came along, with that beautiful smile and a twinkle in your eye. Since then I have felt my life fulfilled and if I had wings I would surely fly.

           My world needs no other presence because you being in it was the completing sentence. Take my faith  and erase that sorrow ; we will build ourselves a wondrous tomorrow. When the mind is in a knot and in life's maze you are lost, take a moment, step back and recognise - that is not real, only karma in disguise. You know where you want to go and who you want to be so unentangle, unchain and set yourself free. 

           Behold yourself from my eyes and all else will fade away; the bitterness, hurt and lies. Life has a myriad of designs, motifs and patterns but don't be misguided by fireflies posing as lanterns. Let faith be the beacon that guides your ways and you will reach your rightful place. 

          So dear heart, don't give up hope, don't fret, frown or mope. Bring back the smile that lights my day and night. Go slay your demons, you need no arms or weapons, for you have my love, in all its might..

spinning dreams..

I walk the beach,

Weaving designs in the sand,
The sea comes riding in
And dancing, takes my footprints away…

I walk the valleys,
Soaking fragrances in my soul,
But the seasons change and
All the colours, scents fade away….

I walk the mountains,
Trap the wind close to my heart,
But with a gentle whisper,
It slowly seeps and flies away…

I fly the skies,
Gathering cotton clouds in my arms,
But the sun sends its marshals,
And my treasure is hauled away….

I walk in the rain,

Collecting pearls in my eyes,
But ruthless life sends pain,
And one by one they trickle away….

I walk in the sunshine,

Wreaths of rainbows in my hair,
But the stoic night  marches in,
And stealthily blows them all away…

So I dwell in the land of dreams
Building castles out of sand,
Etching footprints on slippery land,
The sea stands, a sentry aloof
The clouds paint pictures on my roof
Fragrance seeps in every nook & recess
Night, a soft downy curtain lace,
Raindrops, like pearls on windows
Sunlight makes lamps of rainbows
If so ethereal be the world of make believe
Then why be there a desire to leave
Let me rest in my fool’s paradise
Away from reality’s prying eyes….

Slay that dragon

There is a phenomenon happening in the minds of new India, both young and old and for want of better terminology, it could be called a "Commitment Issue". Extended a little further, when one looks around and sees relationships (including live-in arrangements and marriages, both recent and of several years' duration) falling apart like a house of cards, one could gather that there are also several "Issues with Commitment" which seem to be the wind blowing away at the bedrock of relationships.

Why then this miasma attached to the word "Commitment"? An oft used quote is , "Man is a social animal". If that be the case, social interactions and the accoutrements that accompany them should come instinctively to us, whatever be the state of our evolution or status. All our childhood days we are nurtured by a family and familial bonding do entail commitments and yet the moment we reach adulthood, capable of making our own choices, this is the one choice that most people today find easiest to abrogate ? We offer our commitment readily to various other recipients whether it be parents, siblings, friends, colleagues et al. The problem (except for specific instances where it may stem from history) then lies  in the word as seen in the context of a non-platonic association.

The reason would not be obscure to ascertain , if one were to step back and look at the 'typical' examples of relationships of this nature around us.  At the start you would see two individuals who are capable of functioning effectively but independently, dealing with life's designs in their own unique manner, taking onus for their own acts, celebrating or ruing the outcomes of their choices/actions. Put cupid into plan and you have these very individual souls yearning for companionship (much more intense than comradeship) and the seed of a "relationship" or "emotional trapeze act" is sown.

After the initial euphoria of discovering and exploring the unknown (as is inherent to almost every reasonably intelligent human mind) wears off, one sees a paradigm shift happening : Independence often has to be sacrificed at the altar of Indulgence to another. There would be nothing catastrophic about it  if it did not require a complete metamorphosis of one's priorities, desires, preferences and so on; fine tuning vs changing the tune altogether.

A relationship would require atleast two persons and rightfully this should mean sharing - happiness or worries thereby adding or reducing the sum. But what we actually shrug is our own burdens; the onus suddenly  shifts to another person to be there when needed,  to take over in all times of crises and to even think on one's behalf (And heaven help if the outcome of that thought process is undesirable!). How does a relationship transform a person from a distinct entity to a vacuous amoeba like formless being, needed to take the shape and form as per another's whims ( a little extreme, I agree but the picture pans out such).

This negation of individualism to the so called wholeness of a twosome could be the root cause of the issue. The culprits, of course, may vary in turn from lack of compatibility to non-fulfilment of expectations, different thought processes, adjustment concerns etc. But the essence lies in recognising that the real dragon to be slain lies within. One has to have the courage to admire the man in the mirror and be prepared to walk the path of a lone ranger within oneself, respecting that another may also have the same desire and that boundary need never be transgressed.

Meeting of soul mates can happen without the merging of two individual personas into one, because when such fusion takes place a little abnegation takes place in each of the two. If I have within me a halo of love for 'myself' let me nurture that and respect it in another too so that the accompaniment of someone on my journey will not be an intrusion or invasion but will enlarge that circle to engulf one more; Two stars that twinkle with their own individual light without fear of blowing or fading out the irridiscence of the other.....

marasim..

ज़िन्दगी दो हिस्सों में बटी हुई सी है

दिन और रात के बीच कटी हुई सी है
कहते हैं मरासिम जिन्हें दुनिया वाले
सराब ही हैं बस दिल बहलाने वाले

कुछ अधूरे रिश्ते सुबह की आड़ में जागते हैं
घरों से मुखौटों के पैराहन ले निकलते हैं
एक नकली दुनिया के शहज़ादे बन फिरते हैं
रात को अपनी हकीकत में सिमट सो जाते हैं

कुछ और अधूरे रिश्ते  रात के अंधेरों में भटकते हैं
जुगनू हैं पर खुद को फलक पर चमकते तारे कहते  हैं
नींदों  के भूले ख्वाबों  से खानाबदोश होते हैं
सहर होने पर हकीकत से मुह चुरा छुप जाते हैं

इनके इस फरेब में हमने पड़ना छोड़ दिया है
अधूरेपन से  पूरा होने का अरमान कब किया है
इन सारी गिरर्हों को एक उम्र पहले खोल दिया है
रिश्तों के कारोबार से खुद को आज़ाद किया है

 

ijazat..

वो कारवां था, गुज़र ही गया है

वो मुसाफिर था, कहाँ ठहरा है

हम ही राहों में कुछ ऐसे अटके हैं

जैसे सदियों से रूहें यूँ ही भटके हैं

अब ना वफ़ा की हमको गुज़ारिश है

सावन नहीं, ये बमौसम की बारिश है

अब्र तो फितरत से होते आवारा हैं

इनको कब एक ही मुकाम गवारा हैं

ज़िन्दगी तू बस इतनी इजाज़त दे

अब इस दिल को ना कोई हसरत दे

उनको मुबारक रंगीन मेंह्फिलें हैं

हमारे बस यही बेमंज़िल काफिले हैं

sauda

चलो आज एक ऐसा भी सौदा करते हैं

अपना हर्ज़, तुम्हारा फायदा करते हैं

जाते हुए मुसाफिर को जैसा नेमत देते हैं

तुम्हारी सारी अमानतें तुम्हे लौटा देते हैं

वो उस रात की पहली बात जो अफसाना बन गयी

वो उस सुबह की मुलाक़ात जो पहचान बन गयी

वो हर रोज़ का  पल जो इंतज़ार का शहीद था

वो कुर्बत का एहसास जो हमेशा वहीद था

कुछ अनकहे वादे जो पेशानी की लकीर से थे

कुछ खामोश मंज़र जो राह के फकीर से थे

मेरी वो अधूरी ग़ज़लें जो वक़्त से उधार में थीं

मिटती हुई लकीरें जो नसीब के इंतज़ार में थीं

मजबूरियां जो हाथ मलती हुई मिट गयीं

तनहाइयाँ जो तुम्हारी राह देखती रह गयीं

वो सोच के दायरे जिन्हें तुम पार कर न सके

वो ख्वाब हमारे, जिन्हें हम क़त्ल कर न सके

 इनसे दामन भर लो, ये सब अब तुम्हारे हैं

हमको तूफ़ान मंज़ूर, तुम्हारे सब किनारे हैं

बस तिजारत में इस अधूरे फ़साने को अंजाम दे जाओ

और इस दिल में जलती शमा को स्याह-इ-तमाम दे जाओ

nazm..

जाने क्यूँ भटकती सी रहती है

मेरे लफ़्ज़ों में अटकती सी रहती है

कभी बंद दरवाज़ों से टकराती है

हवाओं में बेजान सी लहराती है

कुछ हर्फ़ समेट के ले आती है

फिर खुद ही बिखर जाती है

वक़्त की गर्द हटाकर झांकती है

फिर सारी तस्वीरें खुद मिटाती है

रात सिरहाने के नीचे ख्वाब ढूँढती है

सुबह उन्हें कहीं छुपा आती है

यूँ तो मेरे करीब ही रहती है

पर अजनबी सी अक्सर मिलती है

उसकी बेरुखी  कुछ  शिकायत करती है

 जाने किसकी बेवफाई याद दिलाती है

 मेरी सिर्फ  वो एक नज़्म ही तो है

फिर  क्यूँ खुदी से अज़म हो जाती है

?

For those of you who read my blogpost titled "Lost for Words", I have a sad ending to the story. I was able to get the lady customer, I spoke about, speak to her son, which her daughter (the one who used to beat her up) wouldn't allow her to do. And to my great relief she left to be with her son who is settled abroad.

The daughter, who was also a customer of the branch, was seen at times therafter, when she would come to withdraw money. A pretty looking girl, delicate of structure and very soft spoken ; one would think she suffered from a split personality syndrome, if one were to know the extent of her cruelty. I almost felt sorry for her at times, knowing that the victim of a mental disorder cannot be blamed as a culprit of wrongs done in fits of insanity. But I had been witness to the helplessness of a frail old lady and the pain wrought upon her by the merciless, mindless acts of this person and could never forget that on seeing her.

And then yesterday when I read the morning newspaper, I was aghast. This very girl had moved in with one of her relatives, an old lady who was a retired school teacher, who was known for the kindness of her heart and the generosity of her spirit. On finding this girl, alone and bereft, not mentally stable too, she took her into her home and nurtured her like a daughter, after her own mother had left India.

And then two days back, in a fit of insane rage, this poor woman was butchered to death, with a knife, by this girl, who later admitted to her crime. The shock of seeing her picture in the newspaper was accompanied by a silent prayer for the poor kind soul who had given her a home and also a thought that the poor old lady who had left before it was too late, was safe and sound. My heart was filled with pity for the girl though, who maybe did not even realise what madness drove her to do. I wondered how her mother would react to to the news and i was overwhelmed with sadness for this lady who would have to suffer all over again, knowing that her child was found guilty of such a heinous crime.

In office today then, I was surprised to see the old lady enter the branch, all full of good cheer. While earlier she would always seek me out for any assistance, today she avoided meeting me and went to another staff member and cheerfully said that her birthday was coming up and her daughter wanted to gift her some money and she had come to find out the balance in her daughter's account. Since I had already forewarned the concerned staff member of any such possibility, she was not told the balance  though she tried to approach several other people and had to eventually leave.

Today,  I have again realised that the motivations of human minds are sometimes beyond comprehension. I do not seek to proclaim this as right or wrong but will simply classify it as incomprehensible, perhaps there is a bigger picture somewhere but right now the pettiness of people's actions and thoughts clouds it and I am just numbed, again...

safar...

यह जो आसमान काली चुनर ओढ़ के आया है

इसका भी दिल आज लगता कुछ कुम्हलाया है

इसके दामन से एक बादल का टुकड़ा चुराकर

दुनिया की तीरती नज़रों से उसे छुपाकर

मैंने दिल के कुछ सपने उसकी तह में रख दिए

और दूर पहाड़ के टीले से हवा के पंख उसको दे  दिए

जाने कभी उनसे फिर मुलाक़ात होगी या नहीं

या बरस कर बिखर जायेंगे यूँ ही कहीं

दिल में हर चाहत  खामोश, बेज़ार पड़ी  हुई है

रास्ते में  जैसे कोई मूरत बेमुराद खड़ी हुई है

वक़्त कल फिर एक नया मुखौटा पहन कर आएगा

पर अब इस बुत को कब कोई  नया रंग दे पायेगा

सुना  है कि साँसों का सफ़र होता है मुख़्तसर

कोई हमसे पूछे कितनी लम्बी है यह राहगुज़र..

safar...

यह जो आसमान काली चुनर ओढ़ के आया है

इसका भी दिल आज लगता कुछ कुम्हलाया है

इसके दामन से एक बादल का टुकड़ा चुराकर

दुनिया की तीरती नज़रों से उसे छुपाकर

मैंने दिल के कुछ सपने उसकी तह में रख दिए

और दूर पहाड़ के टीले से हवा के पंख उसको दे  दिए

जाने कभी उनसे फिर मुलाक़ात होगी या नहीं

या बरस कर बिखर जायेंगे यूँ ही कहीं

दिल में हर चाहत  खामोश, बेज़ार पड़ी  हुई है

रास्ते में  जैसे कोई मूरत बेमुराद खड़ी हुई है

वक़्त कल फिर एक नया मुखौटा पहन कर आएगा

पर अब इस बुत को कब कोई  नया रंग दे पायेगा

सुना  है कि साँसों का सफ़र होता है मुख़्तसर

कोई हमसे पूछे कितनी लम्बी है यह राहगुज़र..

To rest..

Let the masquerade now end,
before the will be bend,
No more the plays of word,
Meanings lost, unheard..

Let this fantasy be slain,
Reality is but Sanity's bane,
No more of dreams be fed,
Hopes vain, unsaid...

Let the flames be doused,
embers to ashes aroused,
No more the passion dance,
desire interred, sans chance..

Let the music be ever quelled,
unsung words deathknelled,
No more the lilting serenade,
Bare emotions on parade...

Let silence hence be the mast,
its depth eternal and vast,
No more a communion fleeting,
a soul unto itself retreating...

of mental bondage...

Not having been able to conform all my life to the norms of desired behaviour in respect of so called important relationships/ties , I guess I'm like an iterant mental vagabond. And this often sends me on a thought trail about the mind and its travails and travels.

The human mind, since conception, is conditioned to grow roots. Having been blessed with an unfettered thinking capacity, we are then programmed to negate this truism all our lives and this is defined as the process of acquiring 'mental stability'. Those  who seek to withstand this onslaught of stimulated dependence are condemned as 'emotional drifters'.

 

Those who comply, more often than not, become puppets to the ringmaster or a 'conditioned to be dependent mind' playing out tricks to its baton beats or wand waves. They will then find themselves guilty (at a point of reckoning) of all the impotencies of will and character for which they would have, at some time, sympathised or pitied others, as their mental weaknesses or failings. They would then stand witness, maybe with consternation and remorse, to the transforation of the independent mind and soul into a hunted animal like creature, trapped within the confines of other's/s' biddings. This is like a self feeding addiction and very soon one could find oneself hooked beyond redemption for the soul, or the lost self.

If this pitiable emotional asphyxiation is the curse of the ties that bind us then wherefore the need to condition innocent, unbridled, uninhibited minds with the need for conforming to societal norms for relationships. Let all our attachments then be designed by intuition or instinct (like between a parent and child) than by the need to find/grow roots. For, very often these roots reverse their direction of growth and become the noose to our souls. Wouldnt it be better then to have clean transactions of human interactions, free from the trappings of sentimental drivel -  minds truly free of bondage...

inteha..

वो एक शाम मुलाक़ात की

हम थे तो अजनबी

और शायद नहीं भी..


वो आवाज़ ठहरी सी

जो तुम्हारी पहचान बनी

और मेरी आदत भी..


वो बातें जो तुमने कहीं

रूहे-ज़बान थीं मेरी

आरजुओं की सदा भी..


वो एक रात जलती हुई

सहर रुकी अब तक जिसकी

न शमा ही बुझी अभी...
 
वो सुबह जो पैगाम लाती
तारीक़ की पहचान सी

कुर्बत का गुमान भी...


वो एक घडी इज़हार की

साँसों की गहरी ख़ामोशी

धडकनों का शोर भी...


वक़्त की एक लम्बी लड़ी

इंतज़ार की हर कड़ी

बेहिस गिरहें भी...


समेट कर नेमतें सब तुम्हारी

कल बहा दी दरिया में सभी

अपनी आशिकी भी...


न रंज, न ज़ख्म कोई

पर जाने कैसी आह थी

पानी हुआ कुछ सुर्ख भी...

On a spiritual quest..

 It is my belief that we have been granted the human form in order to, not just play out our lifetimes but to use the cognitive and perceptive powers granted to us, to transcend from the materially apparent world and discover the essence of the supreme consciousness; that is the journey we undertake and which may be called our process of discovery of the world of spiritualism.

The spiritual quotient of people can divide them into three main categories,as I see it.

- One,there are the people who go through the routine of their lives, either by choice or compulsion and in doing so they restrict their definition of spirituality to tasks well done or lives lived out as per laid down norms and within the confines of their constraints. Such people have a very simplistic view of spirituality, if at all.

- Then there are those, who have realised that spirituality is much more than going through the cycle of duties and rote but are not yet enabled to find it within themselves.Such people then turn to others, whether religious gurus, astrologers, soothsayers et al. to help understand what lies beyond the physically apparent world. Their spirituality is defined mostly by rituals in the form of prayers, ceremonies, pilgrimages and rites which purportedly help them reach closer to the ultimate being (or God as they call him). 

- There are some who are fortunate enough to have evolved ( it is my belief through a cycle of events, past or present), who are not only able to recognise the world beyond but are able, by insight or practice, to transcend from their routine lives to find deeper meanings or see the broader picture, so to say. They are in cadence with the underlying rythm that beats to the divine music around us. All it requires is a tuning in to hear it clearer and be a part of the symphony, in however minor a role. 

But here too lies a trap. Like the seeker who finds a lode mine without realising it and tends to hide it for fear of sharing the discovery, there is a risk of such persons disconnecting from their real worlds emotionally in order to expedite the process of discovery. The logic,of course, would be best defined by them but this is as I see it. However, is "unattaching" the best means to achieve the absolute? And for them whose lives are attached to such 'detachers', what does it entail - are they supposed to use the brief spells of break in reverie of such persons as the metronomes to define the lifespan of their relationships? Did any of the spiritually aware people , who are now our guiding lights, seek to renounce their attachments. They may have given up their worldly lives but they never stopped accepting or giving love. A spiritual journey which causes us to abandon love is meaningless in its very essence. We do not have the choice (or at least most of us dont) to give up on our physical world but do we need to treat the spiritual world as a refuge from emotional attachments. I cannot subscribe to this thought. For me knowing that the journey to meet the divine lies within, enables me to delve deeper into my soul but does not mean a shut down of my heart. It brings a sense of being one with the cosmic design and helps me encompass all the people I care for into that sense of being.

 If this means I am still not on the right path of realisation or actualisation, so be it but I would never seek a spiritual world where I can "detach" myself to the extent that I am unable to see the pain or hurt I cause to those whose lives are emotionally entwined with mine. I can be an observer to my life but that power to observe should rightfully enable me to lead a more meaningful life and how can there be meaning where someone who cares feels isolated or removed. Maybe in another time and place I will be able to evolve to this stage of 'excision' but for now I will simply say - "I pass"...

For Nanya - a part of my soul..

When life deals its traumatic blows,
I wish to be the armour around you.
When destiny shoots its piercing arrows,
I wish to hover like a cloud above you.
For every heartache that torments,
I wish to be the shield inside you.
For each sad thought that haunts,
I wish to be a smile that lightens you.
For all the stumbling blocks you encounter,
I wish to be the downy grass below you.
For all the doubts that make you falter,
I wish to be the beacon guiding you.
When faith seems to fall asunder,
I wish to be the belief that upholds you.
When  darkness seems to draw you under,
I wish to be the radiance that illuminates you.
But Dear Child, wishes are all I have to offer,
A friend and a mother is all I can be to you..



 

one last wish...

Before the lights go out
And the world stops hearing my music

One last song,

Lets sing the blues away….

Before the day dims out

And people stop believing in magic,

One last picture,

Lets paint the pain away…..

Before the night fades out

And the crowds stop swaying to rhythm

One last waltz,

Lets dance the loneliness away….

Before the wind blows out

And the storm settles to emptiness

One last swirl,

Lets sweep the heartache away…..

Before the clouds melt out

And the sky returns to its placid hue

One last flight,

Lets soar to our dreams, the eagles way…

Before time runs out

And there is nothing left of today

One last moment,

Lets wipe the bitterness away…

or let the lights be turned out,

Let the crowds melt away,

Lets put up our easel

And create some magic,

Dance to the rhythm of the storm,

Soar to paint pictures in the clouds,

Let time be a bystander

All I have is today….

A mirage unseen..

Destiny etches our lives

and draws its pictures

we are but portraits

placed in its layout...

Strange are the ways of fate;

when all is seen and lived

when the path to be trod is decided

then it unravels one untravelled..

when all hopes and desires

are subjugated to rote

then, there flashes a dream

a vision unreachable...

its slave I choose not to be

to clear my eyes

and walk on unwavering

on footsteps traced ere...

A mirage have I seen

a chimera in my mind

but evanescent are these

and reality is to be...

In that bewitching hour

I saw the sun and moon meet

but forever will they be apart

and that is how it has been...

Not the progeny of our creators,

we are souls that emerge

out of the nothingness of being

and yet still live, by the writ...

Tailored thoughts, tutored emotions,

rites to be performed

the chore of breathing;

our act of living...

...

तुम्हारी छोड़ी हुई,
स्याह सी रात को,
हम ऊँगली थामे,
सहर तक पहुंचाते रहे..
और दिल में दबी हुई,
अनकही ख्वाहिशों को,
 फ़साने बना, उसे
हर पल बहलाते रहे..
जब लगी बुझती हुई,
दूर चमकते सितारों को,
सपनों का देश बता,
उसे हौसला दिलाते रहे..
पर एक रोज़ थकी हुई,
छिटक कर इन हाथों को,
बोली सहमी सी, कांपते हुए,
'क्यूँ यूँ तनहा चलते रहें?
आज यह तम्मना हुई,
ढूंढ लूं उस चाँद को,
जो रोशन सफ़र करे,
राह मे मेरा  हमकदम रहे...
हर लम्हा कम होती हुई,
इस मुख़्तसर ज़िन्दगी को,
झूठी किस्से कहानियों से,
कब तक यूँ  बहलाते रहें?'
नादानी से भरी हुई,
सुनकर उसकी आरज़ू  को,
भरकर अपनी आगोश में,
देर तक उसे समझाते रहे..
है किस्मत तेरी  लिखी हुई,
चांदनी न समझ खुद को,
डरना क्या अंधेरों से,
हम तो उन्हें भी दिल में समाते रहे..
और फिर हारी हुई,
अपनी तनहा सी रात को,
लेकर अपनी बाँहों में,
उस पर प्यार बरसते रहे..