I just want to sleep

A little drizzle lays bare

On a face with a salty tint

the naked arms which shiver

Of cold , of pain, of breathless whispers 

I try to speak and I choke of dreams

Amid the fading away of screams 

Turn by turn scars shout 

It’s Me! It’s Me! It’s Me! out loud

I dust off the demons from every corner

 the laughs that always hover

An outstretched hand that disappears

Every time I try holding on to it

I enter a dark room with pile of shit

The discarded empathy

The broken kindness

The abandoned love 

The vulnerable friendships

In a quaint little corner of that mess

I find a sepia tinted space 

Where, at this very moment

I just want to sleep

We travel away from strings that hold us back

In the dark spaces between
breathing and living
Rhythm and chaos
we all are puppets of a ticking clock
while time has no scale
it runs in anticipation
of danger
of nightmares
of an untimely call
of a scary unknown
of a sorry that has waited long
of a love that is lost and blurred
of letting go that was yours
It stays still and freezes
and watches silently
the becoming of a new life
the unbecoming of a yesterday
the moment before a hesitant kiss
an embrace when you feel the breath
 3 am nights with crazy friends
the travel that sets you free
the sun that paints the sky red
the starry night on a mountain top
In the dark spaces between
when life melts and
when life happens
we travel, travel away
from strings that hold us back

सब कहते हैं कि तुम यहाँ नहीं हो

चलती हूँ एक अर्धनिद्रा में
टटोलती हूँ तुम्हारे चेहरे को
बनाती हूँ कुछ तुम जैसा
हवा में
और ढूँढती हूँ तुम्हें
उस चेहरे में
दिखता है तुम्हारा अक्स
तारों की तरह
दूर तक फैले
टिमटिमाते हुए
पर रोशनी नहीं
और जब कुहासा छाये
छिप जाते हैं
अंधेरे की चादर ओढ़े
उस अघड़ तस्वीर में
टाँक देती हूँ तुम्हारी वो
आधी मुस्कुराहट
जिसके पीछे दुबक के
बैठा होता है लाड़
मुझे इशारा करते हुये
चुप रहने का, कम हँसने का
तुम्हारी बेमतलब की झिड़की
सर्दी के धूप सरीखी
सुनहरी, मुलायम
इतराते हुए जो आँगन में आये
कुछ हड़बड़ी में
वापस जाने को परेशान
एक अकेली कुर्सी पर
जब एक अकेली चाय पीते
सुबह की अंगड़ाई में
देखती हूँ
उसी धूप के टुकड़े
को हर मौसम
बिल्कुल वैसा
तुम्हारा न होकर भी यहाँ होना
न चाहे उग आये बथुआ की तरह
फर्श पर बिखरे हुये
बाल्कनी पर पड़ी टूटी कुर्सी पर
बैंगनी रंग के फूलों वाली चादर पर
एक बड़े से कॉफी मग में
आईने के किनारे लगी लाल बिंदी में
हर कोने में तो छितरे पड़े हो
और सब कहते हैं कि तुम
यहाँ नहीं हो
I am writing this for the blogchatter prompt “Without You” in Hindi.

Is love only about making………………

She has big eyes where you are trapped

Among those brows that seem far apart

Those curls, those greys sneaking out of her

The way you gasp when you come close to her

Her insomniac walk when you look for her at 2 am

Strolling in Balcony humming tune of her favorite song

Her curves camouflage into a sun kissed beach

She smells of your cologne spilled on bedsheet

Her eyes are shut as they always are

Shutting away from a chaos, the mess that is us

Half burnt cigarettes and half-baked thoughts

An incomplete kiss that never connects the dots

Purple highlights falling on her empty back

A tattoo that breaths when you untie that strap

A tornado that engulfs you as a whole

She endured your aching mind, heart and soul

She waited for you to talk of those broken ifs

And make a phoenix out of carcass of unfinished dreams

You love her every night and goes on her waiting

Makes her wonder

Is love only about moaning and making.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because I am Happy in being me

She was born with a mole on her feet and someone said

Oh she will be a disagreeing soul and would always tread

Then she wanders in search of memories that are dragged

Drunk on nostalgia and away from the cities that brag

Some call her lost

Some call her strong

She still hums and dances on that 90s song

And beyond the labels that you bestow upon her

She knows she was born to be an outlaw among all who surrender

Her scars go deep where no one can see

And she kisses mountains with a happy glee

Leans out of car screen and drinks dew drops

Walks barefoot on a moonlit beach in a worn out top

She still watches P.S.I love you on saturday nights

And her heart skips a beat when he says “P.S.I love you” a 100th time

So go call her names and scream it loud

The itching feet

The nomadic tribe

The cold solitary soul

The wandering girl who won’t fit in

But let you know that she is happy

Being happy because I am being me.”

I am writing this post for the blogchatter prompt “Because I am happy”. You can read more amazing posts at

www.theblogchatter.com/blogchatter-prompt-because-im-happy

ये चाय की पत्तियाँ बिलकुल मेरे पापा सी

fb_img_1472647228835“ठिठुरती सी सुबह में
अलसायी आँखों को खोलने की कोशिश
चाय बनाने को उठी मैं
दुधीले सफ़ेद को
सुनहरा करती ये चाय की पत्तियां
लगी मुझे कुछ पहचानी सी
रंगों को भरते
सबमें मिलकर ,सबसे मिलकर
कुछ नया गढ़ते
और फिर भी खुद सा ही रहते
ये चाय की पत्तियाँ
लगी मुझे कुछ जानी पहचानी सी
लगी मुझे मेरे पापा सी
जिनके बिना रंग भी ठहरे हैं
और ज़िन्दगी का जायका भी
ये चाय की पत्तियाँ
बिलकुल मेरे पापा सी”

 

This post is written for Blogchatter’s prompt for the week – INTERNATIONAL TEA DAY

चाय और Ex

ऐसी ही किसी कोहरे वाली शाम को 

चाय पर तुमसे कह  देगा  वो  

बातें सारी बीती हुईं 

एक ठहरे  Ex के अक्स की 

और गिना देगा वो गलतियां 

अपनी कम , उसकी ज्यादा 

फिर कोहरे को देखकर खुद से  कहेगा 

कि शायद वक़्त गलत था 

कि कोई इतना भी गलत नहीं होता 

और ऐसा कहते वो देखेगा  कोहरे के उस पार 

जिस पार इसे  कुछ  दिखता ही नहीं

सिर्फ उसे  दिखता है कोई चेहरा 

इस अकेले वक़्त में 

उसे पता  है  कि वो खुद से बात कर  रहा है 

और वो वहां होकर भी नहीं  थी 

वापस लौट  आएगा  वो अचानक से

“Can i smoke a cigarette” और 

“एक और चाय पियें ?” के बीच 

फिर बातें  करेगा  वो  इधर की और उधर की 

उदास आँखों में इंतज़ार लिये 

उसे कह ने  देना सब कुछ 

क्यूंकि 

एक अधूरी आस और पूरी आह के छोर पर 

कुछ कदम ही सही 

तुम साथ चले थे 

तुम  हमसफ़र थे 

DSC_0691.JPG
Photo Credit- Dr Pooja Tripathi

Beginning  Today

Beginning today 

I look into the woods 

And realize that life is just 

A season of spring

Before the  autumn  knocks

Beginning  today 

I learn that some relationships

Are like the first shower

They bring sporadic joy

But are just the first shower

As the year changes 

Beginning  today

I come to know 

That there was more to school

Than just  grades

There was more to college 

Than graduation  day

There was more to hangouts

Than the first joint

There was more to first Love 

Than the goosebumps

Beginning  today

I see dreams like a passing year

They do end after a while

But leave behind

A reason to stay alive

I am writing this post with Blogchatter for there prompt.

I wish i were …………

 

sunset-kiss
Image Courtesy- Sandals wedding Blog

I wish I were

the moment before the first kiss

The shivers of hands when they first meet

The expressions of fingers on your back

the breaths that skip a beat

I wish i were

The hug that embraces and melts within

The passion in eyes when they finally meet

The moist touch on nape of neck

The falling hair that hides the face

I wish i were

The sweet noting which trickles down

the whispers which scream “You are mine”

that smell which is so familiar

the curling of toes and digging deeper

I wish i were

the song of love

the dance of passion

the making of memories

the writing of a poetry.

 

The Paper Boat

We strive to give it a shape
Of a boat
A paper boat
Ready to sail
Against the winds
In the rhythm of flow
Swaying and smiling

Just like life
Folding todays
Shaping tomorrows
Tearing yesterdays
Ignoring the rough edges
And there it goes
In a stretch of emotions
Towards the vastness called relations
Silently observing from a distance
As it sways and smiles
Sigh! We gasp!
It is not that smoother
We could have made it better

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