लेखनी रोती है

आजकल हर शाम को अलमारी से एक काग़ज़ निकालता हूँ

मेज़ साफ़ करने एक कविता लिखने की ख्वाइश रहती है

लिखना शुरू करते ही काग़ज़ कुछ गीला सा हो जाता है

गौर से देखता हू तो मेरी लेखनी रो रही होती है


मुझसे कहती है इतना दुःख अब से सहा ना जाएगा

अपनी अतीत को भूलके किसी और चीज़ के बारें मे लिखो

जाओ घर के बाहर बागो में, वादियो में, पत्तो में,

फूलों में, कलियों में, ऊस की बूँदों में कुछ नया देखो


मेरी लेखनी के वास्ते बाहर घूमने चला जाता हूँ

मगर इन सब चीज़ो में बस कल की यादें ही नज़र आती है

हारके फिर से अपने मेज़ पे एक नया काग़ज़ लेके लिखना शुरू करता हूँ

इस बार मेरी लेखनी के साथ मेरी आँख भी नम हो जाती है|

Unfulfilled Dreams

The echo of your angry footsteps

When you departed for one last time

Reverberates in the park still

I look around to find a gloomy world

That once blossomed by your presence


Autumn leaves that would happily fall off the trees

Swirl around you to get a proper glimpse

Fight with each other to get laid in your path

To get crunched by your feet as you would walk past

Today descend in dull, passionless motion


The gentle breeze that blew in the park

Kissed your face

Brushed your tangled hair

Soothed your ears with a soft melody

Remains silent in sorrows too deep to speak


Clouds that danced in joy upon seeing your face

Quickly turned their backs towards the sun

To provide shade from unbearable heat

Became numerous figures to garner praise from you

Have grown grey sending tears from heaven.


The moon, witness of our long conversations

An active accomplice on all except a day every month

Comes up a little early than usual these days

In a hope to catch up with your sarcasm

Returns back dejected, everyday! Still hasn’t given up on you


Neither have I! Loneliness became my new ally

Decorated your absence by a tryst with him

I narrate our story with same enthusiasm time and again

How I wished for lots of memories to cherish

But all I am left with are unfulfilled, shattered dreams.

Prisoner of the Past

The floor was open to resolve the matter post our fight

But you were gone. Disappeared. Nothing said

I accepted captivity as a penance to get my karma right

In a world so dark that would make even the strongest hearts dread


A gloomy silence prevails in this cage for most of the times

Ghosts from the yesteryear guard the walls day in and day out

They visit my cell regularly to infuse me with the guilt of my crimes

All irretrievable things lost, acute happiness drought


Opening up my soul finds them a daunting task

A lot of happy memories spent with you they meet

Immediately start with to finish these off without any ask

Leaving me bruised, busted, broken and forlorn as they eat


It pains to be judged so hard because of a single misdeed

I reiterate that the act of mine wasn’t grievously amiss

They ignore my request without paying even a slight heed

Time is near for them to perform the dementor kiss


I will forever remain a prisoner of my dreadful past

Still I hope an end to this unbearable suffering and harm

My soul wants the remaining stock of happy memories to last

Wishing someone to actually pull off a patronus charm


An amalgam of beauty, grace and elegance

Clad in white kurti and peacock blue Patiala

The whole bookstore got mystified by her presence

This dainty damsel radiated such a pious aura


A little unkempt hair told she was a whimsical lass

Kohl rimmed brown eyes gave an alluring appeal

Black full rim spectacles made her look an Uber-cool ass

Eloquent lips conveyed an abundance of zeal


Two bright Chandeliers dangled from her ears

A Swan pendant enhanced the beauty of her chest

The dazzle of titan raga sparkled on left hand of hers

While her right shimmered with a silver bracelet


She smiled as our eyes met for split second

I lowered mine instantly and looked at her feet

The butterfly flats appeared simple and elegant

Watching this lovely lady had been a delightful treat


I walked towards her while gazing at the literary fiction section

She was confused with Rushdie in one hand and Kafka in other

I offered help to choose a single book for her collection

Our conversation then went on from one domain to another


I was smitten at her depth of knowledge and understanding

She was vocal on almost all topics and had a very fine diction

We kept on talking from Howard Roark to King’s landing

I thoroughly enjoyed the company of this scholar of great distinction


Our talk got disrupted by a call from her parents

She promised to meet again and hurriedly left in the crowd

If only she would have been there for a few more moments

I would have recited this poem to her out loud.


I generally enjoy going for a long walk

With nothing but a notebook and a pen

It gives me time to have a deep self-talk

And put my thoughts on paper every now and then


My mind wanders through several themes

But my heart has frozen itself on one

I succumb to heart and think about those dreams

Whose possibility of realizing today is none


The ghosts of past repeatedly infuse me with guilt

The regret of mistakes becomes too much to bear

Of how a beautiful relationship could have been built

All I am left for the rest of my life is despair


I keep on writing till my pen starts to weep

My mind commands me to be a little clever

Embrace the fact that she was not mine to keep

With a plain smile I my soul responds, never ever!

Of demonic practices in the Indian democracy

Let me start this post with a simple question “You are a Modi fan and want him to be the next Prime Minister of India. But in your constituency, the candidate of the Aam Aadmi Party seems way better than others, be it because of his agenda, thinking, qualifications etc. To whom will you cast your vote?” A little confused, eh? Yesterday, I was sitting in a coffee shop with couple of my school friends and one of them posed the same question to me. The answer I gave him is what will follow up in this blogpost.

The founding fathers of Indian democracy never wanted power to get centralized in hands of one person. That is why India was made a parliamentary democracy, wherein elections are supposed to be fought between various parties and the members of parliament of the ruling party and then elect a candidate with the conscience of all elected representatives. On the contrary, elections in US are based on presidential system of democracy, wherein people have to fight within their party to get nominated and then they fight at the national stage.

Earlier, elections were fought on the party lines with a person leading the election campaign. Often he/she was elected as the Prime minister if the party gained a majority in the house. For this general election, I see an alarming degradation and tempering of the policy of parliamentary democracy. BJP declared Modi as their PM candidate about a year back. Even AAP, supposedly a party with change declared Kejriwal as their PM candidate in a statement the day he resigned as Chief Minister of Delhi. Even congress would have appointed a PM candidate, but they did not, mostly due to the fear of the fact that Pappu is no match for NaMo.

A question would arise in many of your minds – What difference does it make if Prime Ministerial Candidate is declared prior to an election? The implications of this question will arise once the predetermined candidate assumes the office and starts working. When people vote for a party, any policy failure is seen as the failure of that government ministry. Now when voting is done for a particular person, the failure won’t be looked as the failure of the concerned department or the ministry but of the Prime Minister.

Modi and Kejriwal are no saints. They would have their preferred tastes and flavours on various issues. The problem here would be interference and the required consent of the Prime Minister on issues relevant/irrelevant to his domain. Any policy or program wouldn’t be looked as the policy of the government but the policy of that person. He will be compelled to look into matters which otherwise only the minister incharge should have taken care of. Another problem, and a rather big one, is how much power are we giving to a person. In the early 70s, a congress leader had an audacity to say that – India is Indira and Indira is India. The same Indira misused the trust bestowed by the people a few years later. Similarly, the blind trust and belief in today’s elections might just lead to another chaos, all handiwork of power being concentrated to a single person.

The one quality that lies essential for any PM is to create a team and lead. That was the system envisioned for our country. Call him weak or whatever you want him too, the fact remains that Dr. Manmohan Singh still is one of the greatest intellectuals to walk into the Parliament. And no matter how much you say that he was a puppet in the hands of “Madamji”, I don’t think she had an intellect to discuss matters of economic policies with him. Indian economy is slowing down even with an economist leading the country. There are limits as to what a particular person can do for this country. I keep on saying this in my friend-circle; we do not need a strong Prime Minister. What we need is a person who is sensible, who has an ability to listen to his comrades, can work with a team of likeminded intellectuals and should have a sense of responsibility towards the people of the country.

It’s a failure on the political class that elections are fought highlighting a single person as an answer to our country’s problem. Even more than that, it is a failure on our part, for we blindly believe our political class and indulge in so called ‘hero-worship’.

What can we, the educated class, do in this election?

Please stop hooting for any PM candidate. Study the candidates for your constituency carefully and vote for someone who you think is the best. Let go this PM debate. Leave it for the media houses. Remember that there is no messiah who can take this country forward. To quote Winston Churchill “Democracy is the worst form of government except for all those others that have been tried”. Democracy is a slow process. It will be a collective effort of the government with the support of the people that can take this country to great heights. We do not need a godlike figure to get our country out of poverty and other evils. All we need are sensible leaders, who work hard, execute their plans efficiently and deliver their promises. That’s it! No magic wand. No hero-worship.


एक सफ़र का आगाज़ किया था तुम्हारे साथ

हस्ते गाते अंजाम हासिल करेंगे ऐसी हुई थी बात

कुछ ही दूर चलते ही तुमको हमारी संगत पसंद ना आई

रास्ते की दूसरी और चले गये और बोले की अब ऐसे ही काटेंगे राहें


जाने अंजाने में इतनी दूरियां आ गयी है हमारे बीच में

तुम सड़क के ऊस तरफ से मुझसे कुछ कहती हो

बीच में शोर-ओ-गुल के चलते तेरे अल्फ़ाज़ कुछ खो जाते है

मैं अपने हिसाब से समझके इशारो से तुम्हे जवाब देता हूँ

पर तब तक तुम अपनी नज़र दूसरी और फेर लेती हो


इतने पास होने के बावजूद भी तेरे साथ का नसीब नही है

मैं फिर भी चलता रहता हू इस सफ़र में यही उम्‍मीद के साथ

की दूर चलके इस रास्ते के दोनो रुख़ मेलन-बा-मरकज़ हो जाये

तेरे मेरे सपने फिर से एक रंग हो जाये!!!

एक लम्बी छुट्टी पे चले!!

कूछ दिन के लिए ये गतिहीन ज़िंदगी से कही दूर भागे

यारो का साथ, एक गाड़ी और जेब मे थोड़ा सा पैसा हो

किसी हिल स्टेशन जाके सुरम्य सी जगह ढूँढके डाले डेरा

की मानो आस पास देखो तो धरती पे स्वर्ग के जैसा हो


हर रोज़ पहाड़ो के पीछे से सूरज हमें उठाने को आए

आराम से नींद काट रहा तन ज़रा भी ना हटना चाहे

खींचके रज़ाई दोस्त लोग कहे की उठ जा कमिने

देखनी है विभिन्न जगहे, तय करनी काफ़ी सारी राहें


गरमागरम तेज चाय पीकर शरीर को उत्तेजित करके

सुबह की सैर में पतझड़ के पट्टियों को कूचलते हम चले

पर्वत की चोटी से झील के किनारे तक का सफ़र तय करके

बैठ जाए वाहा और किताब पढ़ते हुए आगे का दिन निकले


शाम को अलाव के चारो और बैठके शरीर को गर्माहट दिलाते हुए

ठुसे हम तंदूरी चिकन और पीये हम मदिरा

पृष्ठभूमि में कोई रेडियो पे गाने चलाए

सुने हम रहमान साहब, बॉब डिलेन और शकीरा


मन मे छिपी हुई बातों को निगाहें बता दे

खामोशी में बयान हो जाए सभी कहानियाँ

दिल की आवाज़ एक दूसरे तक पोहचे

बकचोदी में मिट जाए सारी तनहाईयाँ


ऐसे यादगार लम्हे बीतें उन दिनो में

की मस्ती के बाद जब वापिस हम आए

आँखों में वो सारे हसीन पल संजोते हुए

एक और भी रंगीन सफरनामा  लिखा जाए.

मेरी माशूका

कमर तक आने वाले तेरे  लंबे घने खुले ज़ुल्फ़ो को अक्सर ताकते रहता हू

आँखों के सामने से लट को उंगलियो मे समेटके पीछे करती है तो  घूरते रहता हू

तेरे केशो के साये में एक छोटी सी दुनिया बना लू यह है मेरी ख्वाइश

इन रेशमी और मुलायम बालो मे पनाह मिल जाए बस यही है गुज़ारिश


तेरी नयनो की गहराई में ना जाने कितने राज़ है

लफ़्ज़ों में बयान नही कर सकते एक ऐसा एहसास है

साहिल पे जाते है लोग आफ़ाक़ देखने के उम्मीद से

हम तो ये देख लेते है बस आपकी आँखों में डूब के


चेहरे का निखार, गालो की गुलबियत के चर्चे होते है सब जगह

होटो की कोमलता, मासूम सी मुस्कान पाने का ख्वाब देखे हर निगाह

कमर का मटकना, बदन की खुशबू के हम दीवाने है

जिस्म की नज़ाकत और रूह की सादगी के अतुल्य जोड़ से आप निराले है


माशा-अल्लाह इतनी सारी खूबिया तूने है पाई

लेकिन तेरा सबसे बड़ा हुनर है तेरी अगाही

अपने पैत्रो से बड़े बडो को कर देती है खामोश

इसी हुनर के वजह से हम हो गये तुझपे मदहोश


तकदीर का करिश्मा ही कहेगे की हुई आपसे मुलाकात

आपकी सादगी और अच्छाई थी जो शुरू की आपने बात

दिल तड़पता है आपके साथ पल बिताने के वास्ते

अब तो आपसे ही शुरू और आप पे ही ख़तम सारे रास्ते


एक दुआ है की हमारा ये पैगाम- ए-इश्क़ आपको कबूल होगा

ज़िंदगी की प्यारी सी कहानी लिखने का मौका हमें मिलेगा

अपनी इस मोहब्बत को मकाम पे ले जाना है

सितारो के आगे तक का साथ निभाना है!

गावातले ते दिवस

शहरा पासून पंचवीस मैल दूर आहे आमचं लहानसं गाव

एक शांत, सभ्य, देखनीय जागा आणि ‘बुटिबोरी’ हे त्याचे नाव

दर वर्षी दोन आठवडे जायचो आम्ही लोकं तिथे

संपूर्ण प्रवासात गायचो मधुर-मधुर गीते


गावातली दुनिया होती खूप भारी

शहरा पेक्षा किती तरी पटीने प्यारी

जमीन होती आपुले अंथरूण

आभाळ होता आपुला पांघरून


सकाळी सकाळी अंघोळीसाठी नदीच्या काठापर्यंत चालत जायचं

नंतर गोरे काकांच्या शेतातून संत्री तोडून धावत परत यायचं

चुली वरच्या जेवणात एक खमंगसा स्वाद असायचा

झुणका भाकर खाल्ल्यावर पोटाला लय भारी वाटायचं


ढोर, कुत्रे, माकड यांच्या सोबत बेधुंद होऊन फिरायचो

घाणेरडे होऊन घरी आल्यावर आई कडून मार खायचो

दिवस निघायचे कंचे आणि विटी दांडू खेळण्यात

रात्र निघायची आकाशात चांदोमामा आणि म्हातारीची खाट पाहण्यात


ते दोन आठवडे कसे संपायचे हे कळलंच नाही कधी

परत घरी आल्या वर सतत मन करे गावी जाण्यासाठी

आई बाबा शांत करायचे आम्हाला हे सांगून

सुट्ट्या जशा आल्या की जाऊ आपण सगळे पळून


आज मोठ्या शहरात एका मोठ्या घरात राहतो

टीव्ही, मोबाइल, लॅपटॉप वर सतत काहीना काही पाहतो

ती मस्ती, ती मजा करायची सतत आठवण येत राहते

गावातली झोपडी या प्रासादांपेक्षा जास्त प्यारी वाटते|


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