Parallels.

While living the lines,
In mind, through mind;
I wander far away,
Slowly I draw this,
Magical power of apparition,
Fused with multiple identities,
I cry, smile and breathe
The air that whips the images,
While the feelings bleed,
Tears purgate my aimless efforts,
Of creating a line;
Or being created as a line;
Celebrating the protagonist.

I close the pages,
I come back,
And go on about my endless chores,
Struggling for life;
Struggling against life;
Apparitions suddenly coming to life;
In faces I meet on way to work,
Lines that ooze lives in my ears,
Over the endless phone calls;
When I close my eyes and sit back,
To let the mind untangle a bit,
A question whirls around,
Who is not a protagonist?

the third world

comma full stop exclamation question mark
visible blank spaces invisible dark places
the alphabet collapses the lines don’t meet
the word blurs on the wet canvas sheet
the lines break off and fall apart
the song is stopped as soon as it starts
they write and sing and they know it not
the Muse is dead the melody lost
no prayers or lamentations heard
no one waits anymore for Noah’s bird

The fear!

It crawls, beneath the skin,
Loosening, lumps of flesh,
Burrowing deeper,
And deeper, And deeper,
Conquering every inch of belief,
My body becomes a battlefield,
In need of victory and,
A desire for defeat,
The last shreds of me,
Begin to feel the siege.
A part of me is left behind.
The Devastated destitute self,
Unyielding, unmoving,
That sits and broods and longs,
But fights not back to reclaim,
Submitted I stand,
Against myself.

तेरी सुबह मेरी रात !

एक बूँद धूप की,
एक बूँद छाँव की,
रात की हांडी में,
सुबह की गरमाई की,
खुशबु .

एक टुकडा आकाश का,
एक टुकडा ज़मीन का,
रात के तंदूर में,
सुबह के कोयले का,
ताप .

एक टुकडा चाँद का,
एक बूँद तकदीर की,
रात के सितार में,
सुबह के संगीत की,
मिठास.

एक हिस्सा बादल का,
एक हिस्सा शरीर का,
रात के प्याले में,
सुबह की झील का,
स्वाद.

एक आंच ख्वाइश की,
एक आंच आज़माइश की,
रात क सांचे में,
सुबह के भगवान् सा,
इंसान.

The self!

In the dark sunlit woods abound;
Burning in the furnace;
The souls seen lighting up the Altar.

Rummaging through the barren springs, found;
Smoothened out shriveled flowers;
The souls being offered at the Altar.

The air thick with incense mounds;
Heaps of breaths dipped in essence;
The souls busy, scenting the Altar.

From the echoes of the lost sound,
Notes played in perfect cacophony,
The souls quietly sing to the Altar.

I stand alone, the world beyond,
With no soul and no altar,
With no questions and no answers,
A moment embracing ETERNITY.

The inevitable loss!

On stones, and caves
In clouds in waves,
On the walls, on trees,
In raindrops, in breeze,
On seals and clay plates,
In stars and fates,
On sheaves and barks,
On fabric, in art.
They wrote and wrote,
And stored and stored,
And saved and saved,
From dangers untold.

On paper in ink,
In photos, in print,
Histories, biographies,
Fantasy and mysteries,
Volumes and volumes,
Of ideas and feelings,
From floor till the ceiling,
The anxiety to preserve,
Against amnesia reserve,
The demented thoughts.
Those exist not.

Of man's first disobedience!

Boiling, blistering, simmering, sweltering
They scald the insides of my body.
No muscle, no bone,
Squirming, surrendering,
Imbibing more and more,
Seeking still more,
Watching the desires,
Turning into needs,
I
A sculpture, a piece of rock,
Burning inside,
On Infinite pyres of thoughts.
From times unknown,
Every now and then,
Through the dark crevices,
Spurts and slithers,
My sins,
My words.