Wednesday, July 25, 2007

the thread that binds

It is around a holy tree,
She revolved her belief,
It stands a sacred symbol,
Surrounded by four pillars of gold,
Small engravings of wisdom,
Being chanted out,
In a language long forgotten,
Surviving only as a dead whisper,
A whisper loud enough to wield power,
To keep her enslaved;
Surrounded by red and yellow flags,
The amber incense filling the senses with a fragrance that helps,
To create a trance that culminates into,
A numb ecstasy;
A trance of oaths, pledges,
Offerings and devotion;
Endless heads with her bowing down,
Millions of souls revolving around,
The tree oozing out divine faith,
Her faith, their faith;
Taken from within and given away,
Sold by the proxy Gods,
As sacred threads; that
Are tied back on the stems, on the branches
Where it stays and will stay
For her, for them,
The manifested faith, faith she searches for,
Faith she will always search for,
Till it is hers.

A few evenings ago the two of us, unknowningly, were writing the same thing, differently ofcourse, but similar also. And it turned out into a little story of faith and wonder. Here's the other thought.

Dheer Gambhir, Dharti putra
Khada akela
Devalaya ke prangan mein
Yugon yugon se
Maun sanwad mein
Pooch raha
dhyeya apna
Akash-arun se
Ya dhoondh raha tha
Antim-agni alingan mein

Shakti putri
Gatimay, chapal
Prashant, atal
Baandh gayin
Chahun aur mere
Aastha ki
dori kushal

Aur main
Ashaay peepal
Ban utha
Kalpvriksh sabal

Thursday, July 19, 2007


Khaak hote in anjaan lamho ka kya kije,
Tujhse na ho baat, fir lafzon ka kya kije;

Beparwah shor-o-gul ke beech hai khoti,
Is kambhakt beimaan zubaan ka kya kije;

Khwab dekhkar taameer bhi kar lete hum inhe,
Is adhkhuli adhjagi aankh ka kya kije;

Deewangi ki koi had dhoti to paar karte,
Is besabab beadab raftaar ka kya kije;

Khuda se maangte gar khuda hume nawaazta tujh se,
Is be mauke ramzaan me azaan ka kya kije;

Baith-te har us mehfil me jahan zikr ho tera,
Is bad-mizaaz bad-dimaag jahaan ka kya kije;

Fursat hoti to har ik lafz sajate tere naam se duniya k liye,
Badzaat is waqt ki guhaar ka kya kije;

Sailaab hota to karte thaamne ki koshish hum koi,
Palak se jude is there tufaan ka kya kije;

Junoon hai ki zalzala le aaye jahan bhar ki khushi,
Jo khud hi se dare hum, aise jazbaat ka kya kije.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Arjuna's conscience

Line by line the mortal pearls
Are grinded to dust,
While safely kept in the closet.
And when adorned,
By the saints frail,
Shine like the rusted nails.

They are not my creations,
Mere reflections,
On the assorted suspensions.
Disintegrating by and by,
Leaving behind vulnerable voids.

And here I am, their curator,
Trying to preserve,
With potions and paints,
Keep them alive,
Until I faint;
An alarm I am, with them I stay,
Lest the devil take them away,
Take me away…

While fighting this fierce battle, I pray,
O! Krishna guide me.
Against myself this battle is mine,
Suspended in truth, suspended in time.

Eyes have forgotten the tears,
Awry smiles in mind somewhere,
Beyond lies my battlefield,
O! Krishna come to my shield
Let me not forsake myself
Long before I cease to be.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Or so it seems...

Standing in front of a pool of water,
Gazing at the depth increased manifold,
The consciousness searching for my origin,
The eyes feasting on the clarity yet untold,
I loved the ugly reflection inside,
I liked my universe smiling back at me,
The same scum, the similar marshes,
The sultry, simmering, summer swamps
The hungry bog with its doomed tentacles,
Spreading the plague; through irresistible clamps,
I was merely looking at an artificial pit,
With a mirror base,
That produced the oceanic mirage,
Recreating the depth,
Rewriting the history,
Refashioning my past;
Entranced I stood,
Bound to the now beautified ugliness,
By a conscious surrender of the search,
I felt tired and weary,
Or so it seemed…

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Joy 2

Sight of food for the famished body,
The relaxing hollows of the cheeks,
The dilation of the eye lids,
The slight smiling upper lip,
The accentuated desire inside,
The reaching out…

Sunday, July 01, 2007


Dekha aaina gaur se kai baar humne,
Khud se hum rubaru na hue;
Tamaasha-e-yaar hua mehfil me janib,
Tamaashbeen par beaabru na hue;
Hamari fairist me kai dost the,
Jo sab hue par dost na hue;
Jam saja kar mehfil me saki,
Saath Hamare shaamil na hue;
Jagaya raat bhar chaand taaron ki justuju ne,
Seher ke khwab bhi sahare na hue;
Wo saamne hain humare baithe kiye shikwa,
Ilzaam humpar, jo humare na hue;
Gila utar raha hai nus nus me nasha bun kar,
Piye aansu humne paimaane na hue;
Thama hawaon ko hi khamosh raahgeer jaan kar,
Toofan me hijr ke, kinare na hue;
Fir usi veeran mehfil ke, dar pe hain baithe,
Khali maikhane se aane ke ishare na hue;
Bikhar rahe hain alfaaz, ibaadat ke yun hi,
Hum is roshan khudaai ko gawaara na hue.

I am Sorry!

Koi kissa kahani nahi kehna chahti, Roohein roz bikti hain yahan, Aur humne outraged ho kar khoob dekhein hain tamashe yun hi. Mai...