All is Not Lost

Count Your Blessings

I count my blessings,
Sipping the cup of morning tea;
I count thee,
While watching my favorite series
On TV.

I see my blessings,
In the smiles of loved ones;
I hear it in their voice,
Whenever rings the phone.

There are days
When you sway;
But who did say,
Rain or sunshine
Was here to stay.

The road winds;
There are patches,
That don't shine.

But hey,
Let it not stop you,
Or block your view.

Count your blessings,
For it will give you strength;
And this is all you need,
To turn rife,
Into a colorful Life.

Imagination on Canvas

Taking a dip in vibrant colours,
From red to blue, and white to grey;
Dabbing it with the scent of flowers,
Roses, lilies and the mother of pearl;
Spreading its wings far and wide,
My imagination takes on its flight.

Paints the canvas by splashing colour,
Radiant hues to brighten the sombre;
Adding sparkle to the dull reality,
Creating positivity that had eroded;
Moulding a nuevo world,
When the old one had folded. 

फूलों का वजूद

फूल तू चाहता है
हर रंग के ,
अपना पिटारा भरना चाहता है
उनकी सुगन्ध से ,
अपनी सेज सजाना चाहता है
उनकी मुलैयिमियत से ,
अपने गले का हार महकाना चाहता है
उनके यौवन से ,
अपने थाल सजाना चाहता है
उनकी शीतलता से  …

इतनी बेदर्दी से
उनका इस्तेमाल तू करता है ,
अपने पैरों तले उनके वजूद को रौंद कर
आगे तू बढ़ जाता है  …

इस सब के बाद अगर
वही फूल तोड़ते वक़्त ,
एक कांटा तुझे चुभ जाये ,
तो दर्द से तू कराहता है  …

कितना ख़ुदग़र्ज़ है तू ऐ इंसान ,
कभी उन फूलों का दर्द बांट कर तो देख  …
कराहने से पहले ,
उन बेजुबानों की चीख़ सुन कर तो देख  …
आंसू टपकाने से पहले ,
ज़ुल्म सहते उनके दिलों के दर्द को टटोल कर तो देख  …

किसी के वजूद को मिटाने से पहले ,
तेरा हश्र क्या होगा ,
यह सोच कर तो देख  …
मिट्टी से उपजा है ,
मिट्टी में मिल जाना है ,
उसी मिट्टी की उपज को उखाड़ने तू चला है  …
अपना हक़ समझ कर ,
उन मासूमों का हक़ मिटाने तू चला है   …

Sayonara

I knew it had to come,
Was just there on the rung.
Then why these feelings,
These emotions of sadness,
Was it under-preparedness,
Or enough is never enough?

Teary-eyed, with a heavy heart,
Bidding goodbye is not an easy task.

An amazing journey it has been,
Sharing our ways through thick and thin.
Landed there alone,
But going back with wonderful ties.
Can't thank you enough,
Each one of you has been so nice.

We might be far away by miles,
But distances can't change our ties;
Will stay connected in hearts and minds.

Thank you all for the lovely time,
Shine and prosper,
And keep up the smiles.

Goodbye is not the end,
Till we meet again - Sayonara!

Future and Past - Through Glass

A teller of future and past,
A piece of glass.

I hold it in my hand,
And it makes me reflect upon;
The path I tread,
The roads I walked,
The homes I adorned,
The hands I held,
And the love I spread.
Painting this picture of my past,
Its a reminiscence of what I was.

Another piece of glass,
I hold in the other hand;
And it makes me visualize,
The path that lies ahead,
The pitstops and pitfalls on the way,
The opportunities and threats at bay,
And the camaraderie that stays.
Crafting this picture of my future,
It opens wide horizons for me,
To step out and make my choice;
To pick up those pearls of future,
And straw them in the riviere of present;
Which would have another string,
When glanced through the mirror of past.

 

Get-Aways

She said thanks,
He was too busy to hear;
She said sorry,
He really didn't care.

She came in front,
He said you are blocking;
She turned away,
He said you didn't stop me.

She asked him out,
He said its always about you;
She sat with him at home,
He said its boring with you.

She asked him where he was,
He said he is not used to answering that;
She didn't ask when he went away again,
He said it was her ego playing that game.

She kept silent,
He said share problems that brew;
The moment she started,
He burst in anger and said 'screw you'.

And the cycle started again,
With 'thanks' and 'sorry',
And many more get-aways...

That One Look

That one look,
Was so different;
From all the earlier times,
Their eyes had met.

This look - was not of love;
Love that brought them closer,
Had vanished in thin air.

This look - was not of care;
The bond of care and affection,
Had suddenly lost traction.

This look - was not of guidance;
The direction she sought,
Was now pointing to a dead end.

This look - was not of support;
The reassuring comfort,
Had flipped into a disheartening crush.

This look - was not of anger;
The rightful anger and understanding,
Had lost way to distrust and disdain.

It was just a stare,
A blank stare;
Difficult to comprehend;
And she kept wondering,
Were there words to be read?

Beyond Comprehension

Some wounds don't hurt,
Some wounds don't bleed;
Some wounds don't look,
As they would heal.

They just reside,
Somewhere deep inside;
Corroding your happiness,
Even though, out of sight.

Like shards of glass,
They cut and pierce;
Tearing apart the joy,
And peace, that was there.

Neither you, nor the world sees why,
The hollow that is created inside;
The pain is beyond comprehension,
What oozes out, is only a fraction.

Pellets They Throw

They question when you do good,
Doubting the intention with which you stood;
The lamp you were holding to show light,
Is mistaken as devastating missile.

The dirt in your hands,
That was clinging while cleaning;
Is scornfully seen as,
Maligned interests of ruining.

Every step forward you take,
Threatens them;
And, pellets they throw,
To keep you away.

Insecure hearts like these,
Should know, humans are no one's property;
You might put tags to claim your rights,
But, love and care is beyond those boundaries.

अश्कों की सौग़ात

उम्मीदों का कत्ले-आम ,
मुहब्बत का जनाज़ा ,
दर्द का पैग़ाम ,
बेशक़ीमती तोहफ़ों की यह खान  … 

अश्कों की सौग़ात ,
दे गये वो अल्फ़ाज़ ,
जिनसे हमारी धड़कन ,
कभी मिलाती थी साज़  … 

Final Goodbye

Its the eternal verity,
The ultimate truth;
All others are just,
Hoodwinks to amuse.

It greets us all,
But only once;
When, as guest of honour,
Our name is pronounced.

When and how,
It decides to pay a visit,
Is beyond all measures,
Of predictability.

Some face it with a smile,
Some run away for a while;
One welcomes or not,
It thrashes all doors and comes inside.

Face to face with it,
I wonder how one feels;
That moment of truth,
What a peril it seems.

The wishes, the memories,
The guilt, the remorses,
The anger, the envy,
All evaporate in a jiffy.

Life bids a final goodbye,
As death engulfs its prey.

Castle in the Air

It lifts you up,
But only momentarily.
Thought and action goes in,
To complete it in entirety.

Then comes the question of testimony,
And, it again, fails the test of reality.

Sad is not that it crumbles down,
Neither that it crushes my heart along.
Sad is that,
You yourself knock it down,
In your wish of dancing around.

What makes it lamentable is,
You ask me to build it anew,
Just to crash it once again.

I create it, without refrain,
In spite of knowing,
Not for long, its gonna be there.
After all, its just,
A castle in the air.

  

Mirage

Its all intertwined;
Who knows at which point,
The thread would shine.

Happiness and sadness,
Hope and despair,
Love and hatred;
Are just the extremes,
On the same continuum.

While we strive to inch,
Towards one end;
Reality strikes in between,
And the thread is bent.

Perfect bliss,
Pure love,
Unconditional hope;
Is all a mirage,
In the desert of life.

Through the glass facade

Looking through the glass facade;
She can see the world,
But not feel it.
She misses the touch,
But then, is shielded.

Pitter patter rain drops,
Feel so dry;
All she shares is,
Their charming cry.

Shining sun rays,
Feel so calm;
All she shares is,
Their light, not warmth.

Cool, windy breeze,
Feels so arrested;
All she shares is,
The sight of those who grasp it.

Makes her wonder,
Does she have a choice,
Not to surrender -
To step out and feel the world,
To celebrate and heal the world;
And yet, come back,
Into the safe haven;
When she's had enough,
Of all of them.

Who has the key to the,
Door of this glass cabin;
Or, there is no door at all;
Either in, or out,
The choice is made once, and for all.

While I am writing this,
And while you might be reading;
She remains busy,
Chiseling the glass,
Crafting the door,
To her distant dreams.

दस्तक

वो दिल पे दस्तक देते नहीं ;
हमें उलझन में न डालें ,
यह सोचकर भीतर आते नहीं ;
पर हमारे हाल से अनभिज्ञ रह सकते नहीं ,
हमारी गली से न गुज़रे, वो रास्ता चुनते नहीं …

इधर हमारा दिल है ,
जो उनके क़दमों की आहट को ,
अपनी धड़कन से ज़्यादा पहचानता है ;
हम दौड़ कर चौखट पर जाते हैं ,
उनकी एक झलक पाने के लिए ;
वो आँखों से सब कह जाते हैं ,
हमारे दिल को समझाने के लिए …

Mischievous Leagues

Inside the dark canopies,
Where your mind is playing,
Mischievous leagues.

Take a break,
Give it a shot;
How good it feels,
Not to plan and plot.

Remove the veil of negativity;
The world is not bad,
If you see through it.

Pulling down the mountaineers,
Is no fun;
All would be sobbing,
At the bottom of the rung.

For once,
Try climbing with them;
Applauding their feats,
And drawing inspiration as well.

Every one has their own rope,
That leads them to heaven or hell.
Why focus on cutting others' ropes,
When you can use yours to move ahead.

For once,
Try holding them,
When they stumble;
The look of 'thanks' in their eyes,
Would keep you going for miles;
So easily you reached the top,
You won't even realize.

Vulnerability

It was lying dead on the road;
Crushed and crumpled,
All worn and torn.
Was it chosen and plucked,
Only after a while, to be thrown?

It was a saga of love and untiring devotion;
To be plucked to spread joy and warmth;
To be stripped off to decorate homes;
To be a part of the bouquet to send good wishes,
For happiness, health and forever well-being.
Nothing less, but the best it was;
Personification of "love",
Was no one else's task;
And that was the reason,
For the terrible fate it saw.

I picked up the remains of,
Whatever was left;
The fragrance now,
Being forced to dirt and dust.


I passed by a plant,
No more than a thin trunk;
Once the flowery abode,
Was now nude and bare.

What was still left,
After the ravaging theft,
Was the abundance of thorns.
They stood haughtily,
Mocking the gentility;
Pricking any hand,
That threatened their stability.
The sharp stinginess,
And personification of "hate",
Was what kept them,
Safe from harm and hurt.


Stark contrast it was,
Flowers - strewed apart,
Thorns - no one dared to touch.
The only question it raised,
Why is love more vulnerable than hate?

Traces of You

"My past was glorious,
Coz I had not met you.

My future is gonna be wonderful,
Coz I will soon forget you.

My present, though, is a rough patch,
Chequered by traces of you."


These were the words,
Etched on the walls of his heart.
Reading which,
In a moment, her world fell apart.
"Welcome" was a distant dream,
Even the "Goodbye" was so harsh.

Eddies of Wind

I craved for a gentle breeze,
To waft the freshness of air,
Through me;
To rejuvenate myself,
From the worries and tangles;
Relax for a moment,
And be prepared for,
More to handle.

What struck me, instead,
With a swooshing sound,
Was whirling dust,
In eddies of wind.
Left me jarred;
Gifting, what others discard;
And kept me wondering,
At how salve turned into abrasives.

But there I was up again,
Even the next day;
Making myself vulnerable,
For the play.