My Window Pane

My window pane deceives me
The droplets that trickle down
Its slippery countenance
Are not tears

Those are God's blessings
To a parched heart

I Breathe Poetry

 

I feel barren within
For days I don't feel the rhythm
Of life pulsating within me

Have I lost touch
I ask myself
Have I at last
Taken that never ending break
Am I finished, famished, fused
I wonder with unease
Have I come upon that invincible wall
Which poets call the mind block
I can't decide
Baffled I wander

Weeks pass by
In desultory surmise

And then this morning
During predawn muse
I open my window
To let in the breeze
Filter in to diffuse
The muggy heat
Intoxicating the surround
With a heady perfume

Peering into the dark
I see a clump of white
Raising its head
Amidst the bold green
First bloom of this season
After three years of
Nurturing a dream
The petals unfold in soft curls
With streams of gold
Brushing their cheeks

As the dawn breaks
In vibrant hues
I breathe afresh

The wall within crumbles
The heart thuds again
On an ethereal beat
A few lyrics float in air
I stretch my arms
To bring them to grips

Lo! poetry again I breathe ...

 

 

Desolation

Dry leaves crunch underneath my feet
As I approach the bend of a much trodden path
Of life still new gesticulates at me afresh
The poverty of my soul dithers my steps
The blindness of my vision directs me to the wrong turn
I wake up from a nightmare that has lasted too long
By a soft touch, a tender call, a nameless vow
You attract me to your engulfing embrace
I bow down in acknowledgement of your endless glory

 

 

 

 

Sitting By The Window

Dawn tiptoes stealthily
Towards my window
The dark silhouettes
Enlighten slowly
In the purity of light
A car washer cleaning cars
A milkman cycling past
With clanging containers of milk
I too have to take to the sleepy roads
As my pet Mr. Snow Boot nudges me
With soft growls
The day's begun
No more sitting by the window...

 

Glorious morn seeps in unstoppably
Under a glowering sun
The street lights burn

With a weak zeal
The usual noises of work
The honking of horns
The busy strides of passers by....

As the afternoon draws close
Shadows of the trees lengthen
On my veranda
A pale good bye ensues
Its the parting time...
 

The sun tilts westward
Leaving behind a trail
Of riotous red, purple, soft pink

Orange mixed with black and blue
A wistful end to day's delight...

The night comes in with bold steps
Sprinkling a few stars on the way
A doting moon with a motherly smile
The neons and the sparkles of the sky
Vie with each other
For supremacy...

Tomorrow at predawn
I shall again sit by the window
To witness the interplay
Of darkness and splendour...

Till then...



 

A Myth Called Certitude

मैं यकीनन कह नहीं सकती
ज़िन्दगी अब न रुलाएगी
न रातों की खामोशियाँ
चौंकाएगी, न सपनों के  धुंधलके
निचोड़ जायेगी रूह को, बेवक्त
ही कोई आस दम तोड़  न देगी
और हांपते   क़दमों को साए
घने, सब्ज़ नसीब होंगे

घबड़ाहट धडकनें बन गई अब तो
सिसकियाँ खुशनुमाह दाग़ दामन पे
और यकीन पे यकीं रखना
एक कायर सा ख्वाब मानो


मैं यकीनन कह  नहीं सकती
धुप ढलते ही छाओं बरक़रार रहेंगे
और दिन के  झुलसते तंगियों को
रात के आगोश में चैन की पनाह
मिलेगी ...

मुझे यकीन से डर  लगने लगा हैं
और ख्वाबों पे विश्वास
बेवजह बोझ सी मालूम पड़ती है

मैं यकीन करू के न करू
बता मेरे हमनफज़
ग़मज़दाओं का यह हश्र
कोई नयी बात तो नहीं
फिर भी

कोई गर यकीन दिलाये
तो यकीं पे यकीं हो शायद

Am not sure life’s gonna be

A bed of roses henceforth

And the dead of the night

Won’t startle me out of peace

And those dreams which
Never saw the light of the day
Won’t beckon me like a mirage
From afar
Breaking my heart the way they
Always do
And hope shan’t play truant like the
Kid next door who’ve been caught quite often
bunking school by his parents
Whether these tired feet shall find
That forlorn pair of slippers lost in the crowded temple
And heart would find its cadence
to that hip-hop number we always danced in glee
And running nose won’t leave their dirty marks
On shirt sleeves
Sobs are such a nuisance!!!

I know it’s rather foolish to have faith

In the certitudes of life

As there’s nothing seems to be

Of certainty except   

That fiery ball of red in the sky

Which might not find an embalming

Cushion in the folds of the night that follows

Yet it’s quite certain that day precedes night

And vice versa

 
Well it’d be quite comforting if someone
Were to assert a pattern to life
However, as dreams dilute to nothingness

And life seems to fizzle away into something

Uncomprehendingly fatuous

The only certitude seems to be the uncertainties
Awaiting at the next bend
To catch you unawares
 

Death Of A Neighbour

 

Today my neighbour died

An octogenarian

Who had more than often

Given us to believe

That he was no more
 

He left behind two daughters

One half witted

The other outwitted by grief

Vacuous and subdued
 

It was early morning

When I heard her mournful cry

And then closing of a door with a loud bang
 

The maid came and asked me,

"Have you heard the news Didi?"

I asked flatly, "Which one is it?

The father or the dumb daughter?"

The one who kept wishing us Good Day

Was surviving on dialysis...
 

My maid shook her head and clucked

About the ephemerality of life
 

And the day continued as it is...

In the evening after returning from office

I mustered all my will to pay a visit

Rather clumsy on such ocassions

I seldom know what to say in consolation

They welcomed me - the aged relatives

Aunts and Uncles, Daughter-in-laws

And the rest

"Sardarji did not give us an opportunity

To take care of him; he died in sleep

Perhaps it was for the best"
 

I recalled how my father had died

of his third heart attack...

Light years it took me to speak of him

And the pain he had suffered

Without a tremor in my voice

At last the bruised past was won over

To my surprise...

The rites would be in the Gurdwara

Time not yet fixed

I bade a goodbye rather abrupt
They said there is a ritual of picking flowers!!!

Not the ones which grow in abundance in the park adjacent

But the resids of life which refuse to mingle with the ashes

 

As I mumbled a few words of condolence - routine stuff y' know

And walked out' the door

The only words that were left behind were

"... to pick the flowers"

And from the room next to the hall

Floated odd little moaning sounds

Of an orpahned,empty-headed girl

Eerie laments of a loss least understood

But felt deep somewhere inside

आज मेरे पड़ोसी  की मौत हो गयी
सत्तासी साल का बूढ़ा
जो कई  साल अतिरिक्त जी गया धोके से

पीछे  छोड़  गया दो अधेड़ उम्र की बेटियां
एक दिमाग़ी तौर  पे कमज़ोर
और दूसरी जिसे ज़िन्दगी ने  कमज़ोर कर दिया था
सूनी पथराई  सी आँखे और सहमे से लब्ज़

सुबह सवेरे सुनी थी करुण आर्तनाद
फिर एक दरवाज़ा बंद हुआ था बड़े ज़ोरों से

कामवाली ने आके पूछा , "दीदी तुमने ख़बर सुनी?"
मैंने बेझिझक जवाब में कहा , " कौन गया ? बेटी या बाप?"
वोह जो दिन में सौ दफ़ा  "सत  श्री अकाल" का रट लगाती थी
डायलिसिस पे जी रही थी बेचारी ....

उसने अफ़सोस जताकर कहा, "दीदी,  समय का कोई भरोसा नहीं
यह बात तुम मानती तो होगी?"

और बिना कुछ कहे  दिन यूँ ही गुज़र गया

शाम को ऑफिस  से लौटते वक़्त बड़ी  हिम्मत जुटाई
और उनके फ्लैट की कालिंग बेल बजाई
ऐसे मौकों पर क्या कहें ?
वही दो चार शब्द अर्थहीन

बड़े  बुज़ुर्ग बैठे थे कई
जीजा, भाभी , बहन बहनोई,
और कुछ खाली कुर्सियां

"सरदारजी ने मौका नहीं दिया हमें सेवा करने का
नींद ही में चल बसे
शायद यही फरमान था ऊपरवाले का …"

मुझे याद आ गया वोह काली रात
जब पिताजी को आया था हार्ट अटैक
अरसा लग गया था वोह हादसा भूलते
उस ग़म को बांछते
आज ज़बान जली नहीं
ज़ख्म  थक गए आखिर
ज़िन्दगी  से जूझते 

"गुरूद्वारे में पाठ रखी है
समय तै नहीं हो पाया"
उन्होंने  बताया
कुछ फूल चुनने की बात चली
वोह नहीं जो साथ के पार्क में
गुंचे खिले है अपनी ताकीद से
ये वोह हैं जो राख न हो सके
आग के सांचे में

"चाय तो पियो"
"नहीं"  मैंने कहा
दरवाज़े तक आते आते
"कुछ ज़रुरत हो तो बताना"
उसने सर हिलाया

दबी-दबी सिसकियों
साथ के कमरे से
हवा में तैरती रही
दर्द नासमझ सा

मैं आहट क़दमों के छोड आई
सीढियों पे

और वे फूल चुनने की  बात करते रहें
देर तक ...
 

These Are Difficult Days

 

These are difficult days

Of tussle between will and wish

Love and hate

Trust seems a fickle twist

To a bond

Neat yet knotty

Pain diffused in a toast

Of life derides hope

Moments after moments

Sleek , sloppy, sloven

Haunt dreams

Cherished yet forgotten

And those roads

Which lead no where

Beckon me like a

Bunch of temptresses

Staggered steps

Draw uneven lines,

Haggard shapes

Time they say

Is still not ripe

And I stand alone

On a lonely beach

Counting waves after waves

As the sun droops down

On the western shore

And night knocks on the door

I stand alone

And watch the waves push by

Waves…

These are really trying times

And difficult days...
 




ये दिन हैं कठिन

एक जंग चाह और निबाह के बीच
सघन, समीप, तिरस्कृत

इक मोड़ अस्थिर
आस्थाओं के ओट में
रिश्तों की पेचीदगी
सफाई से बरक़रार रखती हुई 

दर्द जाम भर ज़िन्दगी
से मजाक कर गयी
"आस की बात करते हो ?"
वोह पल पानी सा
फूहड़, सजीली ?
जो सपनों में जगाती है
भूल कर भी याद ...

और वो रास्ते ?
जो कहीं नहीं जाते
ईशारों से बुलाते हैं केवल
चंचल चपलाओं सी...

लडखडाते क़दम
टेडिमेडि रेखाएं खींचती है
थके से छबि, निर्जीव, संकीर्ण

"समय", सभी कहते हैं,
"सहेली नहीं है तुम्हारी"
और मैं अकेली 
सुनसान किनारों पे
लहरें गिनती हुई
मुरझाते सूरज की
रौशनी में

पश्चिम का मुसाफिर
रात खटखटाती हैं दरवाज़ा
पर मैं फिर भी अकेली
निरंतर लहरें गिनती हुई

समय असहज और दिन मलिन