Sunday, April 23, 2017

Growing Up with a friend

Tear apart,
one by one
these false sheaths of
poses and perceptions
limits and assumptions
your thoughts about yourself
you no longer question

Tear them,
shred by shred
with the fire of reason.

Only then
you will find your true friend

Be his friend again,
Help him to grow,
grow up with him

Be true to him this time
Don't leave him behind
leave no thoughts unsaid.

Be with Him
Be Him.

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Old Writer

Old writer
sat on his old desk
with a brand new typewriter

remembering stories
of his life and
of a life unliven

stories he had enjoyed
stories he had endured
stories he had collected
stories he had never told.

Old writer
chose a long life
to become an old writer
with many interesting stories.

For example,
once when he...

Friday, February 05, 2016

What inspires a poet ?

Golden Daffodils would be my first guess; dead albatross would be my next.

Of course, it is a personal question and thus needs to be answered in first person. So my attempt to answer it is an honest introspection of those moments of solitude when my imagination metamorphosed into poems.

“Emotions recollected in tranquility”, William Wordsworth had famously and verily traced the origins of a poem.

For tranquility, I have almost always relied on winter nights.  There is a certain stillness and assurance that comes along a winter night. It says to me, “Delve deep into yourself, and take your time to distill your thoughts. I will engulf the surroundings long enough for your thoughts to condense into words.”

But for emotions, it is more complex. Emotions, for all practical reasons, have to be sacrificed or at the least deeply concealed for a successful modern life.  A successful modern life, in that case, becomes impossibility for a poet.  For a semi-poet like me, I have created a parking lot for my emotions. I carefully park them from where they can be easily towed, whenever a long winter night might arrive. Needless to say, I live a semi-successful modern life.

So when the night does arrive, I handpick a parked emotion and try to live it again. I try to remember the settings and the incidents that evoked it.  What memory was stirred in that moment, why it surfaced to reality? I try to follow that memory strand to the depths of my being and I usually land up in my childhood.

 Childhood, when my imagination was my lone companion. Childhood, when I truly enjoyed solitude. Childhood, when I was observant and innocent.  Can there be a treasure more valuable than the memories of your childhood.

And sometimes, I land up in my youth when love was in fashion.  I could have written odes to the moons on your nails. Also when love is in fashion, can misery be any farther? On many nights I could have written the saddest lines.

And sometimes, I land up nowhere. In this emptiness, I expand my existence. Only my ideas can float in this nothingness, only my words can dangle in this space.  A piece of my existence falls on the paper to become a poem. 

Friday, October 23, 2015

आख़िर यह जीवन क्या है ?

बचपन से ले केर अब तक
जो भी हुआ ,
या जो मैंने चुना ।
और चाह कर भी जो मैं कर न सका
वो कहाँ गया ?

वह एक राह
जिस पर चल कर मैं
यहाँ तक पंहुचा ।
और वो  रास्ते जिन पर मैं चल न सका ,
वो कहाँ गये ?

वह विकल्प
जो मैंने चुनें
जिन पर मैं स्थिर रहा ।
और समय की धारा जो बह गयी
वह कहाँ गयी ?

या' यह पल, हाँ यही पल
जो गुज़र रहा है अभी ।
और इसे समेटने की क़ोशिश मे ,
जो शब्द नहीं मिल रहे
वो कहाँ गये ?

Thursday, October 22, 2015

ज़िन्दगी जीने का आसान तरीका

जीवन की असीम संभावनाओं को
एक मनगढंत परिधि में  कैद कर जीना ,
भला यह भी कोई जीना है ।

क्या है जो मुझे रोकता है
इन सीमाओं को मिटाने से ?
इन सीमाओं में इतना सुकून क्यूँ है ?

वो कौन से विचार है
जो मेरी जीजिविषा को बांधे हैं ।
मेरी इन विचारो से क्या दोस्ती है ?

इन सवालों का ज़वाब ढूंढ़ना
क्या सचमुच ज़रूरी है ?
या इन व्यर्थ सवालों में ,
मैंने ढूंढ लिया है
ज़िन्दगी जीने का आसान तरीका ।

Sunday, May 31, 2015


Can you feel a chilly mountain breeeze
with your eyes closed
on a summer afternoon?
I can

Can you visualize the mountain peaks
with the magic of sun and snow
to the last shade of yellow.
Can you stay there forever
or atleast think about doing so
I can

Can you recreate the desert
vivid to the last grain of sand
and then remember the last thought
you had at that place
Can you go back there just to feel
the same again
I can

Can you see that distant wave
coming to tickle your feet
and then laugh young and free
Can you wait for yet another
till the last shimmer of the sea
I can

I have more such plans
But promise me
you will always find time
to come with me
smitten by wanderlust

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Existential Confusion

There is a state of mind- some angst, some irritation some despondency. A grand confusion, a feeling of being directionless and not knowing why...I call it the existential confusion.

Existential confusion persists beyond the traditional methods of unburdening one like socializing; movies, indulgence etc. It is a state where your identity just manages to hinge on your name and designation.

It is a tiredness spreading through you when you are losing the will to prove or disprove peoples’ thoughts about yourself. Introspection makes it even worse. What do you think about yourself? Who are you in reality? Tiring questions.Are you not just a residual image of accepted perceptions?

Perceptions- collective thought of the surroundings about you and your own thought about yourself. This sum total of perceptions defines your reality. What else would reality be?

Have you ever been on this perception trip? Have you ever felt this existential confusion?