Waiting for the end

This mansion of mine
has welcomed all
It still does
Many cross my door
I see underneath the light
coming into my room
I see movement
I expect a knock on the door
Someone stands there for a while
and then goes away
A joke played on me
Once in a while
When someone enters the door
It is only with a problem
Looking for a solution
U seek me when u need me
It has to be two-way
Need has to be respected
I spend my day staring at walls
I see people from the balcony
I wish to be among them
But only when i go down
I find only me
More alone than i was before
Or may be i realize it more
Waiting in the mansion
is all i have left
Waiting for it to end
For life to be new again
To feel the hope
To rejoice the moments
Its dark now
Even the walls feel distant now
To close eyes is to see the light.


i think of him often…

i mention his name as if nothing has happen
then i think if i ever could remove him from my memories
should i ever try to do that
it may only result in suffering
with death the sorrow comes
of not just person but of a possible future
its the same
he is not dead, yet
but it feels the same
the future is lost
what remains are the moments
away from him
i can only think of the happy ones
am i wrong in thinking that we should not meet then
its a loop
of pain
life just plays us like this
to keep us in agony and frustration
what he may be thinking
thats not my concern
but it would shape my line of thoughts
i should never know
nor should i try
he is there
and i am here
lets just hope he doesn’t suffer much as i do
i hope it doesn’t change
but it never stays the same


meaning in life
is there any
does it make sense
do u believe we are here for purpose
because it makes life meaningful
it’s a loop
running around in circles all life
once u start thinking
u r kicked out
no one will listen to u
u r an outsider
so many baseless arguments
to protect the absurdity
they don’t want to open their eyes
open them and it will hurt
better close them and join the parade
life is a spectacle
enjoy it
or atleast pretend to.

the war will end someday

Nothing matters
the outside weather doesn’t bother me
the inside war is making noise
i can’t listen to anything
the war is bloody and cruel
tearing apart everything
all memories changing
the loss of it and the tears
i can’t cry as i don’t have time
the fire from the war is still burning
i can’t feel anything
i like cold now
i can’t smell anything
it’s all ashes now
i dont see as usual
yet you ask me all those things
i know i can’t but still i try
someday the war will end
the peace will come
i may feel again
i may feel alive
i just hope i see u there
i hope to live that long
to see the inside war end.

I cannot ask you anything…

i dont want to ask anything

u can tell me anything, everything or nothing

i cannot say what i want

i imagine a story 

you are there and me too

we talk and talk

till the time i exhaust my curiousity

i repeat the conversations in my head

then i move on to other situations

i want to know, i like to know

just like to avoid the expression of want

and i wonder what is such necessity of knowing all

no one can know all

not even i know myself fully

neither can you

so let us be together for a time

as you will find something new about yourself

i will know you and you can know me in the process

and that is how we might know each other…

Only names

I heard they would go there

the people in love, i mean

there was an abandoned amphitheater

just outside the town

a big wall at the back

trees all around

leaves covered the ground

I walked there just to see

there was no one today

not even a breeze

there were names on the wall

lots of hearts made up

different sizes

names mean nothing to me

they are insignificant

but i wonder how those letters

makes me think of someone

so many dreams here

so many promises made

i have come here before

many times, yet i do not remember

any names, they are new every time

i think whether they come back here

to see what they left behind

to recollect what they felt

why did i come here

i am not in love

i was once i think

but not now, not again

no one will remember my name

in the name of love

i write my name letter by letter

as i reach the last letter

i lost my patience

i threw the rock

no name, never

i shout to call every name here

do not come back here

you will only find names

and no love.




I heard the news of her passing;

i was not sad nor was i relieved

to be able to feel something,

one has to be in a moment,

i was in between two.

I cannot describe the feeling,

wish i could play it again to feel

what i felt in that timeless moment.

I do not have words for that.

Like someone has poured 

a bucket of ice on my pounding heart.

I still had the phone in my hand,

i was thinking what was i feeling

and i felt something i never felt before

it was this time-stuck, emotion-less, quiet, nothing


with the thought of calling someone

i moved my fingers

but i could not press a number

my hands were shaking

a dilemma had housed in me

a nothing so powerful that

it could stop me.

I sat there for an hour

before i slowly crept into the bed

only to woke up minutes later

to convince myself that it was a dream.

The games we play on ourselves.

खामोश निगाहें…

जब-जब मेरी चाहत ने उससे जवाब माँगा

उसने ख़ामोशी का दामन थाम लिया

न ही मेरी ख़ुशी का हिस्सा बन सकती है

और न ही मेरे ग़म का कारण बनना चाहती है

पर उसकी ख़ुशी किस बात में हैं, वो बताती नहीं

हम भी उसकी ख़ुशी की तलाश में एक हिस्सा बन

अपना एक छोटा सा आशियाना सजा लेते हैं

पर वो डरती है कि करीब आकर दूर जाना बहुत मुश्किल होता है

शायद इसीलिए वो कुछ न कहती है न ही कुछ बताती है

बस उसकी खामोश निगाहें एक सवाल पूछ जाती है…

जब मैं लिखता हूँ

जब मैं लिखता हूँ
तो लफ्ज़ आसमान से या किसी किताब से छांटकर नहीं लाता
दिल में कहीं कोई अनकही आवाज़ गूंजती है
लोगों को बोलना आया नहीं
उनको समझाने की कोशिश करने का मन किया नहीं
समझते सभी अपने नज़रिए के दायरे में ही हैं
मन की आवाज़ ने खुद को लफ़्ज़ों में तराशा
धीरे-धीरे एक आदत सी बन गयी
हो तो ये भी सकता था कि लफ़्ज़ों को फिर से आवाज़ बना देता
लेकिन फिर ये एहसास हुआ कि
गर इतने माध्यमों से गुज़रते हुए भाव कहीं अपनी पहचान न खो दे
जैसा वो लफ्ज़ थे, उनको वैसा कागज़ पर उतारा
जो भी लिखता हूँ खुद के सन्दर्भ में लिखता हूँ
किसी और का ज़िक्र भी हो लेकिन उसमे मैं हीहोता हूँ
लोगों ने कई बार पुछा है, कि आखिर “वो” कौन है
हर इन्सान को मैंने अलग जवाब दिए हैं
हकीक़त से अभी पर्दा उठाने का मन नहीं है
ज़िन्दगी बहुत बाकी है, खेल बहुत लम्बा है
इतना जानने के लिए एक साथ निभाना पड़ेगा
पढ़ते रहोगे, तो जान जाओगे
ऐसा कोई राज़ नहीं है, पर जो है वो यहीं हैं, इन्ही लफ़्ज़ों में
मैं भी जो हूँ, वो इन्ही लफ़्ज़ों में है
अब मैं इनके अनुसार ही जीने लगा हूँ
ज़िन्दगी आसान हो जाती है, कोई ढांचा गर मिल जाए
और बात रही “उनकी”, तो उनके चेहरे बहुत से हैं
ज़िन्दगी के अलग-अलग वक़्त में जो अज़ीज़ था
बदलता गया, इसका तालुक्क किसी शख्स या भाव या ज़िन्दगी से हो सकता है
पर ये सब बातें पढने वाले पर निर्भर करता है
किसी के लिए चारदीवारी घर है तो किसी के लिए पिंजरा
किसी के लिए मोहब्बत कोई शख्स है तो किसी के लिए ज़िन्दगी
हर कोई अलग है, मैं क्यों लिखता हूँ?
शायद अब आदत सी हो गयी है
या खुद को ज़ाहिर करने का कोई और तरीका मालूम नहीं
हर पल मन में उठे एहसास को गर लिखता रहूँ
तो ज़िन्दगी कम ही पड़ जाएगी
क्योंकि ज़िन्दगी ने हर पल में इतने एहसास भर दिए हैं
पल-पल को लिखने में दिन गुज़र जाते हैं
रातें तक लग जाती हैं,
दिन रात के खेल में फँसकर मैं लिखता रहता हूँ
और जब भी लिखता हूँ
तो सोचता हूँ, कि लिखने को तो सब लिख डालूँ
लेकिन जब रुकूँगा
तब तक एक एहसास फिर गूँज उठेगा…