Inside the envelope

You are like an envelope: unopened, unidentified;
addressed to a place non-existent
about whose whereabouts no globe or map
holds any information. The wind this autumn has
mischievously carried you to my
doorway. Inside my house, you may be
an unwelcome guest. My bedposts may refuse to
bear your weight, and my room may not recognize you;
you may cringe at the touch of
the slab over the desk, and you’re a stranger for my
wooden windowsills. All the objects of my room may
stare at you with reticent eyes but don’t
feel misplaced, for in spite of its willful apathetic silhouette,
this room is the same place where
I’ve kept waiting for you, waiting for you,
so long. Many nights, the wait has
turned into vain, bearing oodles of agony and heaps
of misery, and many years of life
have dissolved into the mysterious clusters of past
lying in this room. Don’t feel dazed looking at them, they all know you
very well and have heard about you a million times.
But now, when you are here, in my hands, in these sheets, they
can't recognize you. It is tough to connect
a thought to reality. And in these sheets, they don’t realize
what they’ve been missing. These driblets of your soul
lying printed on each side of the paper, I can read you through
them. I can examine your heartbeats, hear your
murmurs, and can hold you against the
lamp of time to see - how over the years, your body
changed its curves and wind flung you from
place to place before bringing you to me. Beneath the alphabets,
your parts still live. Your eyes, that fine shape of them, the curve of your lips,
your fingers like tiny snakes moving on the piano keys.
The fragrance of your words, it has traveled
all across the narrow ravines of my soul. Treading softly
all its secluded terrains and corners, it has reached
up to the bottom. Many nights I’ve spent
burning and yearning, with my soul naked. Your words
sprinkled over my eyelids, your rhymes ringing in my mind,
your paintbrush delineating my dreams and your music
filling life in them. And now, I can see the future, I can see it
so clear, so intact on my heart’s easel. Your words have left
marks on my palms, and your chords lay
suspended in the air. Come; let’s knock each other’s hearts: say
a soft hello. Shyly, with a whistle and a sweet whisper,
let’s unlock the door and gently trod inside into each others’
folded selves and sleeping souls. Let’s share
another sip of love, another lip lock,
another night spent under the scrambled stars.
And in the snow this winter, we won’t remain
homeless anymore. It has been long and
we have been living roofless, walking over thick thorns and
cutting pebbles, with our souls bleeding and our minds starving. Come,
this winter
let’s get back to home.

A song

If I were a poem,
would words be my eyes?
To shed tears and to curve
into a poignant smile,
staring blankly
into the depths of my child's eyes?
I shall but cast a golden glow,
stolen from the daffodils that dim,
for
reflect deep in the
shadow
of her irises,
I shall want to,
A hidden sorrow?
The crimson, she shall see?
Somewhere..
amidst the black and white.
Or will it be a blister bared,
left unnoticed, uncared?

If I were a poem,
would my fingers be the colours?
(thumb prints)
Their sword cast away,
the fight concised,
the bloody ink dried..
Just pictures of purple miserable waves
And a scuttling ship so silent,
cradled
back and forth
back and forth
Ideas relinquished
.
.
into nothingness,
For the flame but dies
amidst those colours.
All that remains
.
.
is chequered chess squares.

If I were a poem,
I shall be a song.
A melody so musical
That drawn she shall be
to the melancholy.
For all she shall hear,
Shall be the strains,
(Squeezed.
From within,
blue lemon juice?)
Blank and imperfect,
yet pleasant.
(For music it is,
A Childish rhyme!)
Isn't that all you seek, my child?
Or is that all
I seek?

Kon ho tum?

Hathon mein hath liye hum humesha ki tarah khamosh baithe hein. Mein humare rishte ki paecheedgi ko soch rahi hun aur udaasi se tumhari taraf dekhti hun. mein aaj bhi nahin janti ke humare darmiyan konsa bandhan hai. Kabhi dost to kabhi ajnabi, kabhi rah roh to kabhi humsafar, Kabhi humraz to kabhi na-meherbaan aur na-ashna. Mein sirf itna janti hun ke jab hum saath hote hein to waqt tham sa jaata hai aur humare wujood ke tamaam asnaam shikasta ho jaate hein. Woh sab kuch jo hum kabhi kisi ke saath na karein, tumhare saath fitri tor pe sehel lagta hai. Woh lafz jo humare honton pe thehr jaate hein, tumhare rubaru besakhta nikalte hein. Humari qurbaton ke bawajood humare darmiyan ka fasla kam nahin hota. Dil us pyase ki surat hai jo lab e darya is khauf se pani ki taraf haath nahin barhata ke kahin yeh talism toot na jaye aur phir usi tapte huve sehra mein yeh akela na reh jaye.Aaj meri eik uljhan suljha jao. Mere dil ko itna bata jao ke kon ho tum.

Tum mujhe tabhi dekhte ho jab mein palkain jhuka daite hun. Is liye humari guftugo mein kam hi aisa hota hai ke humari nazrein mil jayen. Acha hi hai ke jo sawal honton pe nahin aate hum unhein izhar ka koi aur zarya nahin daite. Phir bhi khamosh lamhon mein eik ehsaas rakm ho jaata hai jub hum bila takalluf apne dil ke samne aqal ko pashaiman hone daite hein. kam az kam zeest se chura ke yeh do char lamhe to hum saath mein jee hi sakte hein,eik umr ki rafaqat ka sawal jaane kabhi uthe na uthe. Mein apne dil ki nadaniyon ke hathon buhut paraeshan hun. Ab dekho na, itne kareeb beth ke itni udasi ki batein sochun gi to palkein to bheeg jain gi. Wahi huva jis ka andesha tha. Mote mote aanso’un se chehra aur daman tar ho gaya. Ab koi ma’qool wajeh bhi nahin jo bata sakun gudazi ki. lekin is eik adat mein mujhe eik anjani si khushi milti hai. meri palkon pe behte huve aansu tumhein is qader bechain kar daite hein ke tum besakhta kabhi unhein ponchte ho aur kabhi mujhe behlane ki tadbeer karte ho. Dil ko barri tasalli hoti hai yeh ehsaas aur humdardi dekh ke. Shayeed humein nakis ulfaton ki itni adat ho gaye hai ke kisi ko apni tarah beqarar dekhne se ehsaas e tanhai jaata rehta hai. Aur phir woh jo eik sawal humari rafaqat ka dil mein chubhta hai usko thapakna asaan ho jata hai ke chahe koi bhi surat ho magar hum mein muhabbat hai. Shayeed is jazbe ka koi mustaqbil nahin magar kia itna kam hai ke yeh eik anmol jazba humare seenon mein sulagta hai.

Yeh khamoshi, tanhai aur qurbat phir kahan milegi. Itne kareeb baith kar aise khayal zehn ko uljha daite hein ke kahin hum malik ki dee hui naimatoun ki nashukri to nahin kar rahe? Kahin aisa to nahin ke humare mehrbaan khuda ne humein humari ruh ka saathi dai diya hai aur hum usse pehchaan nahin paa rahe? kahin hum donon apne hath mein aaye khuld ko anjane mein gawa to nahin rahe? Lekin kia karein ke humare dilon ki tarah humari roohain bhi masoom hain. Hum in baish qeemat lamhon mein nadamat ka koi pehlu shamil nahin karna chahte. Masoom aur pakeeza rishton ko nibhana shayeed insaan ki fitrat ke khilaaf hai issi liye iss qader dushwar hai. Hum donon issi kashmakash mein hain ke eik doosre ke ehsas ko khuda ki banaii hadon mein mehsus kar lain. Tumhein dekhte dekhte jab dil aqal ke pehre se bahir kadam rukhne lage to mein khud hi nazer phair laiti hun. Tum bhi jab zabt ki hadd pe jaa pohnchte ho to ankhein band kar ke sakit se ho jaate ho. Eik aur katra humare sabr ko labraiz kar dai ga aur hum khudaii se bekhaber un raston pe qadam rakh dain ge jahan se wapsi ki koi surat nahin.Dil hai ke kisi tor nahin manta aur aqal hai ke kisi surat nahin jhukti. Aur in donon ke darmiyan do nadaan muhabbat kar baithe hein.