Let's talk about Sleeplessness

Let's talk about the nights when you laid awake even in the darkest hours,
with the brightness still stuck to your eyelids— lighting up the inside of your head like a Christmas tree.
.
Let's talk about the nights when it was so silent,
such ominous, defeaning, audible silence,
that you could listen to each drop of water trinkling through the tap left open in the bathroom sink,
and yet you couldn't tell the superfluous mind from that open tap.
Tik, tip, tik, tip, tik, tip...
Like each drop was the crest and trough of the thoughts running amok in your mind.
A chain, almost!
A chain of thoughts so brittle that it repetitively got broken by the sound of water droplets,
albeit so strong that it stopped the mind from shutting down.
.
Let's talk about the nights when even in the moments of sheer inactivity you could feel the palpitations in your chest,
and coarseness of your breath in your nostrils—
as if you rounded the universe at least 10 times while still lying motionless on the bed.
.
Also, of course, let's talk about the funny excuses you gave for the dark circles under your eyes or pimples on your forehead the next day.😬 .
#Poem #terriblytinytales #sleepless #insomniac

Those who left

Often, I think about them.

About the coffees we would have drank,
about the games we would have played,
about the series' we would have watched,
about the jokes we would have made,
about the thoughts we would have shared,
about the cigarettes we would have smoked,
about the beer bottles we would have emptied,

And, about the millions of moments,
that we would have created doing nothing,
while getting comfortable in each other's silence.

Often, I think about them.

About the lies we told,
about the fights we fought,
about the lines we crossed,
about the voices we raised,
about the tears we cried,
about the egos we bloated,
about the days we never talked,

And, about the millions of miles,
that we walked,
while standing in front of each other.

I think about them a lot.

Those who left,
I have a part of them with me.

Do they have a part of me too ?

***************

For more, follow me on TTT @ https://terriblytinytales.com/user/kaushal_khati

Race, Religion, and Bullshit.

Naked,
standing under a tin roof,
amid countless guns,
slapped, scratched, and raped,
a Yazidi freezed.

Below the murderous skies,
in the lonely streets,
her fingers run through his streaks.
In her endless search for son's torso,
the Palestinian weeps.

November makes her nervous,
for she remembers the unforgotten.
A brother, a father, and a grandfather,
burnt alive, and rotten.
Yet the guilty of Sikhs walks free.

The hands in pocket,
were an invisible pistol.
Cop shot the the teenager,
his color was his fault.

The King's dream is still a dream.

The Republic Day Rants

Today, as we celebrate Holy Grail of Indian Republic, we see its political czars unfurling the national flag at historical of all places and biggest of all stadiums. We see them delivering best of their speeches, while suited in best of their attires. We listen to them speaking in evasive manners, displaying best of the circumlocution practices. The patriotism that they put on show can even make a soldier’s love for his motherland trite. As the democracy, which ought to be celebrated, bleeds on every nook and every corner of Nation, we celebrate the merriment of these fellow “co-patriots” because of whom the very fabric of this republic is endangered now. 
Yet, the democracy is to be celebrated. It is to be celebrated for those who selflessly sacrificed themselves for a dream, a dream of a Utopian state. It is to be celebrated for those who lay their lives at borders of the Nation to sustain that dream. It is to be celebrated for those who still believe in keeping their lives kosher, and those also who still dream of the same dream that our freedom fighters had dreamt of.
As the nation enters its 66^th Republican year with a test of democracy scheduled in forthcoming weeks, let’s hope the bastardization of politics stops this time and from next year onwards we celebrate Republic Day with all right reasons.
Happy 65^th Republic Day! J

What if the world really ends today ?

The obnoxious ferocity of treading time,
and the paradoxical notions of life.

The thumping glory of highs,
and the chagrins that curtail 'em.

The alacritous touch of lover,
and the fiendish loathe.

The evanescent laughter,
and the recurring melancholy.

The gargantuan bliss of birth,
and the enigma of epitaph.
--
This is how it runs.
It heaves, it lows.
This is how it ploughs.

A humongous circle,
an unending miracle,
a ship,
that will never scuttle. 
--
But.
But.
But,
what if the ends split up,
what if the miracle ceases,
what if the ship scuttles,

what if the world ends today ?

A cataclysm,
Fulmination in countless pieces.

What if world really ends today ?
"Carpe Diem," i say.

A Letter to a Friend.

Dear Veethica,
How does it feel to sit on a pile of birthday wishes, pulling out one at a time, reading, smiling, and getting humbled, all while when you're getting a year younger ? Exhilarating! right? I wish each day of your life brings same amount of happiness, same out amount of love and same amount of smiles to you.
As you take steps forward in your life, you leave some imprints behind, which you would always remember as the most halcyon days of your journey. "Old is Gold," as they say. I sincerely wish that you never ever have to look back to find that Gold. 
I know that sometimes the past has been bonkers with you a lot, sometimes it had totally vitiated you or some part of you. I know you have faced many challenges that you did share with nobody. May be you're over them now, or may be you still are keeping your bundle of sufferings saved in some corner of your heart, whatever the case, i want to tell you that these sufferings and these disappointments were not there to scuttle you down, they were there to give you lessons of life. You always have to keep the best of everything with you and let the worst of it go.
You're a woman of great valor, never let this part of you die. Even if you fall short of some steps to your dream, never let your confidence fade. And most importantly, never ever loose the hold of  your virtues, they make you what you are.
At last, i want to tell you that your friendship holds a special place in my life, as i have always told you that you were there when nobody was. 
I wish you keep accomplishing all the goals that you would have set for yourself ,while no achievement stops you from dreaming further.
Good luck to you! :)
Good Bye. :)
-
Kaushal.   


P.S.: We didn't do ANY photo together..ever ?? o.O
  

Melancholy

Extraneous she is,new to life;so little,

so brittle.

Holding few strings,
she announced of new springs;

smiles crept,

elders wept.

Reinforcing faith,

they showered praise;

no prejudice,

only rejoice.

Inside the womb,

she begin to brawn;

a girth,

the mirth.

But, the loathe's pervasive,

man's aggressive;

for the lamp,

just few "cramp".

Behold! you zealots,

an unborn,

so pure,

can't you reckon!

A daughter,

a sister,

a mother,

she's the bringer of future.

Don't vitiate the life,

let her culminate, and ripe!

Recall, the conscience,
abhor, the nescience,

don't kill, for she's holy.

Please come forward, to end this melancholy.

There's a Lot in My Mind.

The useless words,
the silliest excuses,
the unreal fantasies,
the murkiest situations,
and the most audible silences.


Drawing nigh,
the sudden byes,
the pain followed,
and the ego swallowed.


The forlorn figure,
the uncalled rigor,
the righteous apology,
and the shaken psychology.


The past flashes,
the seethe digresses,
the heart blares,
the bliss appears,
and on the cleave,
the joie de vivre.


The mind saves a lot,
enough to goad,
the perpetual ache,
in the ordinary wretch.


Don't ask,
be blind,
for there's a lot to be explained,
in the mind!

Delirium

”I love you” she said, adjusting the creamy satin bed sheet over her uncovered bosoms. The statement was not confounding especially after an unplanned-impromptu love session but still it amazed him. Her twitching of bed sheet had left a small red mark over his right thigh and for an instant he thought about tugging it back from her, it could have dragged them in one of those cute “after love” fights but a glance and he realized she was serious.

Soon the glance became gaze. 

Eyes are indeed the window to the soul but a look through hers went in vain, and he understood, there’s a lot going behind those tiny dark-brown pearls, they were shining unusually as they were moist, but no!  She was not crying. This wetness was different and he knew that, he himself had seen her getting misty eyed at different moments of pain, and joy as well.
Outside the window, the monsoon was at its crest; the sound of tiny droplets falling on roof has isolated them from all hustle and bustle of city life. 

It might be the rise in the levels of estrogen that had made her too emotional, he thought, but she was not a seventeen year old-yet to explore the life-doing it for first time-young girl, she’s a confident woman, yes!  One “confident woman”. He still had his eyes on her, struggling with her tresses as strong wind blew across two opposite windows in room, she looked most beautiful. 

Thoughts in mind are like beads in an unknotted silk thread, you pick up the thread and next moment train of beads will be falling off. 

A "confident-beautiful woman", he thought and these two words were enough to set him off to a deep cogitation. In his mind, time was flying in backward direction and in hers, it was stagnant. Soon, he was reminiscing about college days-- the corridors, the alley and the road they walked on,  without even noticing each other and when he did, obviously his heart skipped few beats but it couldn’t have been the love at first sight, for he never believed in that concept. The real feelings started much later when he noticed that all of a sudden everything related to her was giving him a lot of excitement. 

Big eyes, a perfect turned up nose, glossy lips and shiny-voluminous hair, complemented by a tinge of attitude which could be seen at its summit with a slight arch in eyebrows, and a slender body—she was made up of perfect pieces that cohere together to give even Aphrodite a fierce contention.

He sighed. She turned towards him. In blue light of monsoon she could easily see the mazard through his skin. She wanted to touch his face, wriggle her fingers in his hair. She wanted to own him for that moment, for the life – for ever. But, he wasn't there.

First rain, and petrichor, she could feel it. The aroma of nature was in her veins now, she couldn’t resist it. Stood up, wrapped the bed sheet around her body and took a quick amble to reach at one of the windows. Sudden movement in room brought him back to present. He looked at her, only her silhouette was visible. She had a perfect body.

Her perfection was rather contagious, it had given tingling sensations to many hearts. His wasn’t different from others, but unlike other Casanovas he preferred remaining a clandestine lover. Sometimes he tried to reach her, to claim her friendship but an impulsive thought, that he might speak gibberish, always restrained him. He took vow to wait for the right moment. He didn’t groom himself neither he tried of deliberate serendipities. He longed for it but what all he did is just to wait. He waited for her, to fall in love with him.

Smell of earth had always taken her to gratification, combined with the cold wave kissing her face it was giving her a feeling of mental orgasm, second time in evening. It all started with a simple kiss, what followed was pure love, she surrendered herself to him and he accepted her because she completed him. In his arms, she could feel the comfort with his skin. Moments later, as the bodies got convoluted the mind passed through a gamut of emotions, finally calming down at culmination. The act was like a flame, having intensity but it wasn’t flagrant, it was catharsis. 

TO BE CONTINUED... 

Happy Birthday to my 'Third Parent'

Class: fourth...Adampur,Punjab...you were in sixth...i still remember 'pearls of wisdom' you and your friend Badshah bhaiya had given to that guy who was troubling me since a long time...lol..:P.. remember those mundane evenings when we used to make future plans on terrace... growing up with you was fun...Thanks to Papa's Defence job, many times we used to be the only kids in neighborhood...so a major part of our adolescence was covered together. playing, laughing, learning, fighting and sometimes even abusing..:P...Bareilly, Naliya, Adampur, Delhi...time passed pretty fast...i never realised...neither would you have...until you packed up...it was hard for me...looking behind for every unsolved math problem had became a habit till then and so was the day-ending fight...and you know, i am a good brother since i have given you so many souvenirs, that too on your body...my teeth..lol..:D...and mark my words, you have been a good brother too...i mean, obviously you cannot compare with me..i am quite extraordinary...but still you're good..:P

Anyways, its your birthday today...so enjoy...be blessed...you are intelligent, whole bloody world knows that(but nobody knows about my intelligence..:P)...keep moving ahead...consummate with success!!...

A very very happy birthday..:))

आज धुप में कुछ नमी सी है |

Penned these lines when i felt the quintessential warmth of sun was somehow missing in today morning's sunlight...i don't know should i extend it or not..*confused*




आज  धुप में  कुछ  नमी सी है |


प्रथम किरण के आगमन ने पूर्व क्षितिज से सूर्य की उद्घोषणा की है ,
धुंध की परत को चीरती हुई उषा ने जिंदगी को एक नई प्रेरणा दी है ,
पक्षियों की  कूजन ने  रात्रि  के  मौन  की  अवहेलना की है |


परन्तु, सूक्ष्मता से देखो, इस भोर में मालूम होती कुछ कमी सी है ,
तपन के अभाव से यह सूरज की जो लौ है,वह भी लगती आज धीमी सी है,
दो जोड़ी कपड़ो में ठिठुरती वो भिकारन मंदिर के कोने में बैठी सहमी सी है,


हाँ! आज धुप में कुछ नमी सी है|

Rain,My Books and that Tea Vendor Kid...

"This rain is the final good bye to chilling cold.” said the auto driver, referring to the showers that were obviously quite unpredictable in the month of February. I looked inside, smiled at him and then again started to enjoy the cold wind that was coming on my face, with each wave sending so strong shivers down my spine that I could actually feel it in my back. 

I have always liked this feeling; the extreme cold on my skin, the numb sensation that follows is quite Nirvanic which certainly takes me away from all weltschmerz at least for few moments.

....

14th was the date…14 February 2011 precisely. The events throughout the day had definitely upped my joie-de-vivre and then this Nirvanic auto ride. I felt blissed out. It was 9 at night and I was about a kilometre away from my home and the rain played perfect spoilsport, with no rickshaws around I decided to cover rest of my journey on my foot.

....
Five minutes later, I was walking on the road that connects my Society to national highway, in same chilling wind but this time the blissful feeling seemed to have got up and gone..." Your books are more important"...the voice was playing endlessly before my ears. In between the visuals of the day tried to own up my mind...walking in the alley of college, enjoying with my friends...the laughs...the cheers...that beautiful girl in black and the beats my heart missed on her sight...but again ..."Your books are more important"...Never in my life I had felt so embarrassed about my books...Those five minutes gave my thinking a new dimension.

....

I had got 2 new books issued from college library on that day. I don't know why I decided against carrying bag on my way back to home...maybe I was too tired. So I left it at hostel but couldn't part with those two new books. While returning, as soon as I got down from auto I ran towards a roadside tea shop. Taking me as a prospective customer who wanted to enjoy a cup of hot tea in chilling weather the two teenagers who were packing up for the day gesticulated me to return. I pointed towards my books and then rain; they understood and allowed me to stand under their shed. The younger one seemed to be quite amused by my 1500 page Sedra-Smith. The feeling of awe in his eyes made me feel proud of myself. I wanted to evangelize about the education to him. But that proud was short lived, for in next minute he did something that left me speechless.

He went back to shop, tore a plastic packet of match boxes, resulting them to fall in water, got slapped by older sibling, and then came to me, handled me that packet and said,

"Cover them. Your books are more important."  

Because the Bird bugged the World!

Foremost, 

   "I wrote this on the day when Wikipedia went black!"

Okay! The short prologue would have given you an inkling that how much pain I actually had to bear to bring out this exceptional piece of literature.Period. Oh! thanks for appreciation but there's nothing exemplary in whatever I did, it's a very significant nature of homosapien race--to take an extra step, to push things forward, even if inertia plays havoc with his endeared pair of spheres. So today, I took the plunge into it, unleashing superpowers of this thing called Google and look, now I am all loaded with different tips and tricks on 'how to avoid blacked out Wiki', from disabling javascript to pressing escape(hell! I must tell you that the Esc key, which is usually left out alone in keyboard, was socially never so much popular. It's trending Twitter worldwide!). I love Google, at times it makes me feel like Justin Long in Die Hard 4.0--a much needed boost to my sagging morale. 

Anyways, this piece is for a competition, they asked, "Why is a Raven like a writing desk?", I read it once, twice and third time even my mind gave up, asking,"What the dickens! Is it even English?". Leave out the whole saying, honestly speaking, I initially thought Raven is Anglocized  pronunciation of the late Lankan beast! A quick research proved me wrong, no qualms about it...great failures come to greatest thinkers only. More research and I found,  its not even a saying, it's a riddle and according to certain Mr. Lewis Carroll, who apparently is also its author, he never intended for there to be any real answer to the question!---duh!! IITians have gone really mad I think, and more mad are gone those civilians who are demanding their schmutz to make their babies. The news of latter left me flummoxed, seriously, I condemn it and in my opinion its an international conspiracy to indulge the most technical hands in country in sleaziest of activities.Oops! I did a little typo there, I meant heads. What! Why are you gawking ?? Yeah I know I have a very prude mazard, rather an ever wondering-creative-innovative mind. Still, if I hurt some sentiments anywhere then I lament it, but please don't hurl shoe over me, save them for political class and ignore me.Ah! ignorance..if truth to be told, I share a heart warming relation with ignorance. Actually, once my teacher in seventh standard  told me that ignorance is a bliss, God knows how much blissed out I have been in my school and college life since then. Anyways, coming back to Raven graven, brother Google just introduced me to certain Mr. Poe. This man had  achieved a rear feat of writing on both, desk and Raven. Now, how can you write on a Raven! Poor bird would die of irritation caused by constant scribbling of pen on its back. May be at Poe's time there weren't used to be ladies with God gifted assets who can make people to respect animals by using placards to cover themselves in public. For God sake, perverts, read those messages too! In between, a brief perusal of whatever I wrote till now gave me strong feeling that i am being quite antithetical to opposite sex, but no! I am not at all a misogynist, au contraire, I love women on top! This is a high time when we men should lie back and let women enjoy the hegemony.        

Thank you SOPA/PIPA, my Esc key gave up, it just died out of pain which I enforced on it to save some Wiki pages to go black...huh! Internet protection laws are really such wasted ideas, drafted by U.S. Congressmen, in hurry, as they couldn't resist the under table games of some Lewinskies. Seriously, do they even sound like laws??...In fact PIPA reminds me of sister of grand daughter-in-law of Her Royal Highness Queen of Great Britain, Pippa Middleton. Apart from a family relation, the other majestic thing about her is her ownership of a  well, in shape derriere that tremendously helped in increasing the TRP of Royal wedding footage to astonishing levels. And I personally have dedicated a New Folder(5) in E: drive to her, in respect of recognition she garnered because of this feat.       

Anyway, the poor Raven just flew off, leaving behind still fresh marks of beats on my mind and may be on yours too. So, the most I can do now is to thank you for bearing with me for so much time ,and about "Why is a Raven like a writing desk?", I must tell you that just like Mad Hatter in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, 

                                  "I haven't the slightest of idea!!"

Peace.
No!..it doesn't end here...it actually starts here...let us add some stars to this post...:)


P.S.: I am reading this again in 2015, and this post looks so ridiculous. Actually it was for a blog writing competition in IITR, India, back in 2012, when I was still in college. The topic was given by them but humor was mine. ;)

Why do we shout in anger?

[This post was originally posted by great Author-Thinker Paulo Coelho ]
Original Link: http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2012/01/09/30-sec-reading-why-do-we-shout-in-anger/

by PAULO COELHO on JANUARY 9, 2012

A master asked his disciples:
‘Why do we shout in anger? Why do people shout at each other when they are upset?’

the disciples thought for a while, and one of them said
‘Because we lose our calm, we shout for that.’
‘But, why to shout when the other person is just next to you? ‘Isn’t it possible to speak to him or her with a soft voice? Why do you shout at a person when you’re angry?’
The disciples gave him some other answers but none satisfied the master.

Finally he explained:
‘When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other through that great distance.’

Then the master asked:
‘What happens when two people fall in love? They don’t shout at each other but talk softly, why? Because their hearts are very close. The distance between them is very small…’

And he concluded:
‘When they love each other even more, what happens?
‘They do not speak, only whisper and they get even closer to each other in their love.

‘Finally they even need not whisper, they only look at each other and that’s all. That is how close two people are when they love each other.’

Happy Birthday Thapa :)

As i wait for clock to cover 540 degrees of more angle my ever floating mind decides to rotate the hands in anticlockwise direction,bringing back all the moments of past 3 and half years in a single blast...

Startled by the speed of time, yes! i am overwhelmed with nostalgia...and you my friend Thapa keep on popping from nowhere in each and every of these moments, in fact you are quintessence of all! This all prompts me to think how would my graduation have shaped up if we weren't mean to be friends....and i go blank!...from those unadulterated pills of joy to those adult-rated times of fun...we have enjoyed it all...be it talking about matters of global importance like we were heir in waiting ,or "presenting our papers" on female behavior as we were some tested Psychologists, or almost becoming child welfare activists whenever topic of Academic performance erupted...doing Nonsense was never such a fun!...if for some relationships time stands as testimonial then we have your bike...hahaha...i m sure it will bring smile...the totally insane rides we had...and worth mentioning two instances when you almost broke my back..:P...and special mention of your badassery and eccentricity, it always left me with :O..:P...

34 months period wasn't always bed of roses...we had our share of bad times too...days had passed without talking to each other ...i regret some wrong decisions i made...and i promise i wont repeat...but yes i worry a lot too...people who matter to me, i want 'em to listen because most of the times i always talk about their benefit...:)...i cant tell you how much  i loved it when you came to see me when my foot was broken...and many  more times when you yourself volunteered to single-handedly solve my problems!!...

Bhai i wish you stay same for rest of your life...atleast for me..:P...A very very Happy Birthday to you...may God keep blessing you...and giving you success in all your endeavors so that i keep enjoying treats..:P...

and Long Live Our Friendship(I don't say dis often and not to everyone)....:))          

Saying Sorry

Heads get hanged,low in shame,
when u hear(abt) these things happening in your frame.
A Missy of thirteen or a lady of thirty,
why she always get a look that is awful and dirty!
a man, a hollow sham
raping ma daughters,sisters and frans (friends)!!
he can't but i can:saying sorry to all,
who ever fall, only because that damn masculinity stood tall!

Children of Lesser God

"You shall not come to school from tomorrow", the teacher announced, to a small girl perched alone in the corner of class room. Small pearls of water started to sprinkle out of that girl's little eyes, yet somehow she took control of her thin frame. Digging her hands in the pocket for handkerchief, she stood up to face the whole class. ”Headmistress ma’m has cancelled your admission because of late submission of fees and many other irregularities”, the schoolmistress added. The girl wasn’t bemused, for she knew the real reason. She was cherub, still. Nodding at teacher’s imposition, the little Chaaya replied in a husky tone, ”yus madam”.

Rest of the day in school was usual for Chaaya. Usual means, every teacher gave their share of dirty looks to her, during recess classmates took turns to disgrace her further; one guy even threw her water bottle in dustbin, though she got it back when nobody was in class, she couldn’t wash it because few seniors eschewed her from using water cooler. During games period she wasn’t even permitted to enter the courts. She found solace with her pebbles.
As she was walking through that school alley for one last time, she started to think about some of the happiest memories she was taking with her after a three month sojourn there. All because of Ms. Aisha Nagar, her computer teacher in school. Ms. Nagar, unlike others, was very  sweet to her. She used to let her work on computers with her peers. In fact, once she even kissed her forehead when she had topped a test. In her small life time till now, Chaaya has rarely seen such kind of compassion and she knew that she is never going to forget this token of love. Ms. Aisha was the only positive pillar in her ordeal house.

For a nine year old this is a difficult life, rather not even a life. But Chaaya is different, and she knows it. Her experiences have changed the way she used to live; from an impatient and restless infant she has now blossomed into a tolerant child who knows how to hold her tears, and her life. She has her dreams and aspirations too; she wants to become Kalpana Chawla and go up in universe, to stars, so that she could find her stars, her parents, as she watched in movie Bhoothnath that how people become stars after death.
Chaaya’s parents, Dinesh and Bhawna, both died when she was just three and half years old. She still has some imprints of them, like her father bringing chocolates, or playing in the garden with mother. Young Chaaya often thinks about how different would times be if her parents would still be alive till now - all part of a child's fantasies, about whom she herself knows that they could never get fulfilled. But the commendable part is that even after so much suffering, at such a young age, she never shows any signs of juvenile delinquency. “How did your parents die?” this question sounded very rhetorical to her, as a child (in fact even an adult) would never take pride in announcing that her parents died because of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, and passed on the disease to her as an inheritance!

Relation between Opportunity and Destiny...

If OPPORTUNITY doesn't strike at your door then you need to do some hard work...go to her place...don't ring the bell...kick down the damn door...grab her hand, take her to Church...Marry her!!...Consummate..have kids...apparently they 'll be called your DESTINY...

Moral of the Story: DESTINY is born when you make love with OPPORTUNITY...

My First Hindi Poem...(मैं फिर रो ना सका )..

It all started few weeks back when i bumped into a Dr.Harivansh Rai Bachchan 's masterpiece: "Madhushala", and then Javed Akhtar's poetry in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara filled me with awe.
Hindi/Urdu poetry is really very enchanting. Sometimes it is very emotional, and many other times it can be fervent too.
Here's my (first) amateurish effort in Hindi poetry (which means mistakes shall be ignored :P).

                            मैं  फिर  रो  ना  सका 

पत्तो  की  सरसराहट  ने  फिर इन्तला  की,

ज़िन्दगी  के  दरवाज़े  पर  फिर  हवा  ने  दस्तक  दी ,

नई  उमंगे  दिल  को  लबालब  कर ,

चेहरे  पे  मुस्कान  बन  फिर  उमड़  उठी |

मखमली  रंगों  में  रंगे ,

अपनों  की  खुशमिजाजी  से  सजे इन  लम्हों  का मैं  शुक्रिया  अदा  ना   कर  सका 

 मैं दो  बूंद  आंसू भी रो  ना  सका |

कुछ  वक़्त  बीता ,

कमबख्त  किस्मत  ने  फिर  करवट  ली |

बुरायिओं  को  जैसे  सर्वत मिल  गई ,

और  खुशियाँ  ना   जाने  किस  मोड़  पे  ग़ुम  हो  गई |

अपनों  का  तो  साथ  छूटा  ही , 

मगर  सपने  भी  मनचले  हो  जाएंगे ,

ये  गवारा   ना   था |

सबसे  हो  खफा,

मेहफिलों  से  दूर  किसी  कोने  में ,

मैं  सिसकियाँ भरने  की  कोशिश  करता  रहा |

पर  फिर  दिमाग   ने  हलचल  की ,

होश  को  तलब  किया |

पर  किस्मत  का  ढंग  तो  देखो ,

मैं  फिर  रो  ना  सका |

अब  जब  तन्हाई  में  जीने  की  आदत  सी  हो  ही  गई  थी ,

तब  एक  शक्सियत  पे  नज़र  गडी |

दिल  को  तो   जैसे  नया  ठिकाना  मिल  गया |

आँखों  की  तो   पूछो  ही  मत ,

वे  तो  बस  तलाशती  थी ,भीड़  में ,वो  एक  शकल |

मुझे  खुद  अपनी  गुम्शुद्की   का  पता  न  चला ,

आशिकों  की  तरह  बस  चल  पड़ा ,

ले  होश  से  तलाक  मैं निकल  पड़ा |

पर  कागज़  की  कश्ती  कब  तक  लहरो  का  बवंडर  सह  पाती|

भला  कब  तक अक्ल गुमान  से  शिकस्त  ले  पाती | 

दिल  फिर  टूटा ,कराहट  फिर  निकली 

पर  संगत  क  डर  से  आंसू  फिर  ना  बह  सके ,

और मैं फिर रो ना सका |

Bye Bye 2010...(a poem...rather jingle written by me, just to bid adieu to the best year in my life till now..):)

though it doesn't have any significance now...m posting this for just sake of "posting" as right now m busy with exams and don't  have enough time to write something new for my first blog post!!!...

In the twilight of zero nine ('09),

i was not at all fine.

With dereliction and compunction,

loaded with the self conviction;

fighting with the damping luck,

nothing was good for this chuck.

Then like a fresh wind u came,

to make my life more serene.

Taught me to love,

taught me to embrace,

so that i won't get lost in some crazed rat race.

Taught me to fight and to be strong,

to make me deft for the throng.

Sometimes when i was too low,

you never let the "sorrow river" to flow.

And sometimes when i was flying high,

you cautioned me to "earthify".

At every step,at every way,on any time,

Oh dear twenty ten...you were always like a friend.

As the time went by, Year calender became dry;

now just few days lie,after that you are going to die.

(Your) Being at the death's door, makes me to love you more;

but as you told,at these times i have to be bold.

I commit myself to your teachings and promise to welcome your younger sibling.

Here i offer you last rites,'ll remember you as a flawless kite...

At every step,at every way,on any time,

Oh dear twenty ten...you were always like a friend.

On every step,on every way,at any time,

Oh dear twenty ten...i 'll miss you like a friend.

Bye bye twenty ten,i 'll miss you like a friend.