nothing new.....

nothing old.....

nothing happy.....

nothing sad.....

nothing happens.....

nothing done.....

nothing concieved.....

nothing aborted.....

still is the air.
still me.
Still you.
The world spins n spins.....
Nothing never stops.....

Walking on...

The sand slipping beneath my feet,

The coarse grains,

Scratching and piercing through the thick skin,

A wave washing over the unwanted sand,

Leaving behind unwantd salts.

The crabs pushing forward,

The green blue slimy shells.

The flesh cutting through the beauty,

Goes straight to embrace the sand.

A little deeper inside the sea,

Standing on the silt,

Feeling the world pass beneath my feet,

With every wave,

I pass away too.

And yet the next wave,

Brings me back,

To the same sand,the same silt,

The same shore with a different name,

And I am the same stone,

With the same heart,

Which beats against every grain...

WORDS !!!

Like the earthworms,
Wriggling out of the ground,
When it rains.
Ensuring survival is a game of hide and seek.

Like the spider,
Spining a web,on and on,
Suspending the self.
Ensuring survival is a game of hide and seek.

Like the hawk,
Steadily stalking the prey,
Soaring high in the sky.
Ensuring survival is a game of hide and seek.

Like the caterpillars,
Metamorphosising into cocoons,
The tender cover produces colours.
Ensuring survival is a game of hhide and seek.

Like the insects,
Camouflaging into the world,
Decieving the danger,securing strife.
Ensuring survival is a game of hide and seek.

And now the most important part of the post.
A very happy holi to every body =) Celebrating love with colours.Hmmm... All the reasons to feel happy. May all the readers be painted in different hues of love.

RADHA !!!

Taaron ko chhant kar,
Pooja ki thali me diye jalaye hain.
Komal ehsaas haule se piro kar,
Sundar surbhit haar banaye hain.
Kesar aur kum kum nas-nas me bhar kar,
Hawa ne ungli se tilak lagaye hain.
Dhoop baati aur kapoor saanso se chun kar,
Mann ke kaune-kaune ehkaye hain.
Rom-rom se japp-te tera naam,
Band hothon se agannit shankh bajaye hain.
Maatha tek kar dehleez par teri,
Aastha aur vishwaas ke bhog lagaye hain.
Aarti ki,rupehli,lau se,
Jhuke hue ye naiyan jagmagaye hain.
Hatheliyon ko jodd kar tere aage,
Nanhe-nanhe haath failaye hain.

Hey shaam fir yamuna k teer,
Lehron par kiranon ne sapne sajaye hain.
Vanshi ki dhun par thirakti meri payal,
Har aahat pe Radha ke Shaam aaye hain.

Helpless!!!

Hmmm.... M back with my series of stray thoughts that i held back f0r one or the other reason.
This time i would be publishing two of these disjointed sets of ummm,lets say doubts...or moments i felt weak.

Helpless III/IGNORANCE/

Grazing the grass of reason,
Braying the plea of bliss,
Under the sun that burns;
Bearing the burden,
Of base mockery,
And a battle of wits,
With mute acceptance,
In the melancholic voids of memory.

Helpless 4/LANGUAGE/

Like a cluster of tadpoles,
Wriggling about in the road side puddles,
Sun soaks it up,
And the language dies,
Barely completing,
The second stage of metamorphosis,
Waiting to be,
Part of the pond that stinks...

Bus yun hi!!!

Ek aks hai zahalat ka,
Har rang ka rang laal hai,
Bus dhuan hi uthta hai kafir,
Ye raakh nahi mashaal hai.

Hai roshan fir kaafila uska,
Surkh shabnam k najaron ki tarah,
Fir bhi vo khud insaano sa,
Tanha hai baitha majaron ki tarah.

Kuch thame hue sannate hain,
Kuch anjaane sawaal hain,
Wo goonjti hai cheekh vahan,
Kuch ankahe jahan khyal hain.

Saagar pe sifar hai lehron ka,
Kuch dube hue kinare hain,
Baandh me bandhi chaandni hai,
Jo toote tare, Hamare hain.

Har katre se ehsaas ke,
Wo behaya yun hi karte hain jua,
Khala hai bandagi me kahin,
Mehfilon me jaam sajati hai dua.

Love is the poem, Beloved is the light!

A half written pristine poem,
On the pearly white papyrus,
Shining through,
A few forgotten archaic streaks,
Suspended within the opalescence,
Of vibrant words.

Lamenting the loss of,
A melody that quivers in a hum,
And dies at the start,
Of a vaccumated world .

The light from the words tear itself,
From its music;
And moves on, fighting,
The ferocious vaccum;
Creating a mosaic,
In the sublime solitude of matter;

The opals of the poem,
Are charred on the surface,
The papyrus crumples into ash,
To fill the world.
The ash and the opals strewn all over,
Becomes the medium,
Evoking the notes from the dead.

The half sung melody,
Melts with the words,
Creating a new song.

Love is the poem,
Beloved is the light,
Both unite,
On a pyre burning bright.
The charred opals in moons revived,
Night, hums the song with a pride.

And when the melody slowly stops,
And the song fades,
The night looses,
Its opals again,
The voids celebrate annihiliated lyrics,
Mocking the meek, shrivelled up syrinx.

Another half written pristine poem,
Is suffused with the archaic light;
To create a new melody,
With all its might...