आजकल बारिश / Rain, these days

आजकल मुसलसल बारिश नही होती

शायद कुछ नाराज है

बादल भी गरज कर

कहीं और निकल जाते हैं

मुझे अब भीगने से भी कोफ्त होने लगी है

धुएँ और सीमेन्ट की बदबू

अंदर कहीं गहरे पैठ जाती है

वह सौंधापन न जाने कहाँ गया

कुछ धुला-धुला नजर नही आता

जगह-जगह गंदगी के ढेर फोड़ों से रिसते हैं

आजकल न जाने क्यों

किश्तियों के खेल अच्छे नही लगते

जब कभी बारिश होती है

मेरे मन से रिसाव होता है।

————————————————-

These days it doesn’t rain continuously

I think it is perturbed about something

Clouds too, rumble and thunder

And go elsewhere

I dislike getting wet these days

The smell of smoke and cement

lingers on inside me

I can no longer smell the petrichor

Everything seems to acquire a greyish tinge

One can find mounds of garbage

oozing like septic boils

Somehow playing with paper

boats doesn’t entice me any longer

These days whenever it rains

I can feel my heart seeping with pain.

(Another poem from the college diary)

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Just once

Sending reason on

a much needed vacation

I scramble out of the straitjacket

of expected behaviour

I gingerly unclasp my shyness

and carefully drape it on the chair

the outward calm belies

the turmoil within

the knot in my stomach refusing to budge

I shush the mind

and listen to my heart

ignoring its wild palpitations

straightening my uncooperative spine

I plunge headlong into the crowd

reminding myself this was just one off

I would never crash a wedding again!

Harsh reality

I chart my flight across

the swirling chaos of realities

to safely land on the island of

serene dreams of valium drugged nights

depending on ingenuity to

dodge the bullets of nightmares

across the vast expanse of whirling sand

‘cos the melodious ache of floating

in a hazed limbo, is too much to bear.

What matters

In trying to live the questions

I hesitate as I pick words

that are scattered all around

glittering ones as well as the subfusc ones

but there is no need for fanfare or flair

nor chutzpah or sauciness

caught in a spray of ideas

I dither and flounder

eventually picking only those

that make me feel alive

for in the end, that is what matters.

Mirror

Your tone is irreverent

but the laughter in your eyes is frank

words lacking finesse gush forth

but your enthusiasm is infectious

vulgar language is your trademark

I know it hides a beautiful soul

you taught me not to be judgemental

and that perceptions should never cloud the vision

the trajectory that my brain was following was flawed

I am glad you were the mirror I so needed.

Change

New yields way to old

sometimes change is not so good

old order stakes claim.

शेर / Couplets

तुम क्या दूर हुए मुझसे
तुम ले गए मुझसे मेरापन

आँखों में अश्क नही हैं
लेकिन दिल में है गीलापन

तुम्हारे आने से पहले
मेरा हमसाया था अकेलापन

अतीत के घुसपैठिये डूब गए
वहाँ था आँसुओं का पनीलापन

हर नई नज्म लिखने के बाद भी
नजर आया उसमें वही बासीपन

उँगलियाँ पीठ पर लिखें मोहब्बत
और दिल में हो इक थिरकन

ओस से नहाई कलियों में था
भोर की लाली का सतरंगापन

बसंत ने अपने रंगों से ढक दिया
जाड़ों का वह नंगापन।

When we drifted apart
you took with you, my my-ness

The eyes shed no tears
but my heart is experiencing dampness

Before you came into my life
my partner was loneliness

The trespassers of the past
drowned in the tears’ wetness

Every time after writing a new poem
I could only see in it staleness

Fingers trace patterns of love on the back
and the heart flips with happiness

Dew drenched buds were adorned with
red dawn’s prismatic-ness

Spring had graciously covered with its colours
winter’s barren nakedness.

(These are very old couplets, written when I was 18 or 19 yrs old.)

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They look at each other

with all the venom they can summon

hurling accusations like torpedoes

I warily look up from my book

loath to leave my hero mid action

wondering if intervention is required

as the fracas seem similar to yesterday’s

they leave the room arguing

usually these bitter feelings are ephemeral

my book beckons and I am engrossed again

the decibles go up suddenly

a door slams, a chair scrapes

and just as my hero is about to

discover the murder weapon

I hear a loud wail

I jump out of my skin

angrily I barge into their room

it is a free for all nite

they are punching, kicking

pulling hair and biting

screaming at the top of their voices

both not ready to back down

my loud bark is ineffective

I have to physically wrest them apart

panting heavily they direct their angst at me

accusing…

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Collision

When her realities collide with his

it causes an epic blaze unseen before

her western sensibilities not so alien for him

as they have that hollywood like edge

that take him on a whirlwind rollercoaster ride

of alien emotions

and giddy-eyed but steady he watches her

as she fumble with his exotic earthy rawness

and hides her bewilderment

but her panicked eyes plead for help

there is no dearth of common ground

unlearning habits is taking time.

Why

After the war

stock taking

inventory making

grouses nurtured

peace tenuous

both wounded

tremendous price