Wednesday, November 18, 2009

In search of a name

I wrote these lines the other day, they simply flowed out of me as I sat through one of my lectures. It has been a couple of days since I wrote them but what kept me from posting was search of a title for them. But as it is I still am at a loss and hence am posting them without one. Suggestions are welcome :)


Aankhon ne dekha ek chehra, to nagma tarash liya
khwabon mein tasveer ko kuch aise saja liya,
ki banda bhool gaya hakikat ke faslon ko,
har aansun ko khushi ke moti bana gaya.

Aisa sitam na kare khuda koi khudi par,
ki khwabon ko apni sachai samajh kar,
Khud se naaraz hone ki itni khata kar jaye
ki guzaare zindagi fir unhi nagmon se mehroom ho kar.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Iktara

This post is not something that I created. It is just a song that has really touched me, after a very long time a song came so close to my heart, so couldn't help putting it here for my memories...

Orey manva tu to bavra hai
Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai
Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai bavre
Kyun dikhaye sapne tu sote jaagte

Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Kaise main chaloon, dekh na sakoon
Anjaane raastein

Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara
Dheeme bole koi iktara iktara, dheeme bole koi iktara
Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara

Sun rahi hoon sudh budh khoke koi main kahani
Poori kahani hai kya kise hai pata
Main to kisiki hoke yeh bhi na jaani
Ruth hai ye do pal ki ya rehgi sada
kise hai pata… kise hai pata

Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Jo barse sapne boond boond
Nainon ko moond moond
Kaise main chaloon, dekh na sakoon
Anjaane raastein

Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara
Dheeme bole koi iktara iktara, dheeme bole koi iktara
Gunjasa hai koi iktara iktara, gunjasa hai koi iktara

.....................................................

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A Comatose Life

When do the tears stop?
When does the heart refrain?
The flow of question never ebbs,
Then does the search for answers ever begin?

There is a different beauty to life,
Even when the heart is dull
As the senses feel nothing but are
Everything just stays still.

The color of the lenses lie altered
it is a different hue I see.
Still my lips do turn to smile
I still laugh at the irony.

I wish to let go
what my heart still holds dear.
My being lies smeared in wrath and pain
As I still strive to forgive.

I am so tired.
Emotions have turned to emptiness.
My strength does fail me
I can no longer hold on.

Or is it because I no longer wish?

Monday, July 20, 2009

Why not the Grey?

Thoughts drive me crazy, for they never seem to end. They seem to pervade every bit of my being and then when I feel I am done there are some more. It’s most odd, for I wasn’t always so. Or was I?

It is strange when I sit and contemplate, strange ‘coz it is almost an assortment of contrasts. Black and white of everything, only the greys dull me out. But strangely the affinity for the two extremes is as strong as can be. It only leaves me wondering, where do I belong? I can’t understand the complexity of it all and simplification, I have realized, is not my cup of tea. Then where are the answers?

Often I wonder, is it just me? Or is it the age, as they say? Or is it that I think beyond my years as most would have me believe? I understand it not. But there is this that I do know. I sense many things that I should not, why I do not know. It is just that there is a pervasive feeling around us all that touches this one chord deep within me, a silent touch of emotion, unspoken, yet so profound. It is strange, as much to me as most of others feel if I ever talk about this.

There have been many times I have tried to reason things out, within myself, I realize it is imperative that this is the way I do it, for I can’t explain. No, it is beyond me, to even those that I most care for. It is ironic, how those same cannot but see, there is a light that shines, that tries to reach out to them. But there is a fear, a fear that is now there, that now destroys even the murmurs of realization, whispers of understanding to those that may need it most from this one end. May be there shall come a time again when these fears shall fade away, but till then no thought escapes the confines of the mind, shackles have been drawn deep inside and there are many that refuse to give in. There are no answers yet, there have been none.

And I wait on.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Unknown Horizons


Constant and yet not so,
the movement is too undefined.
The probable may come true,
but then probable it stays....
 
is it the ecstasy of the unknown,
or the fear of the defined?
what holds back the essence,
oddity is unbound.
 
Does it not surprise?
do no questions raise their ugly head?
how is it that it is yet so peaceful?
There must be a secret untold....
 
Then let not the slumber be broken,
there lies no meaning in it.
Let the words remain unspoken,
there lies peace withtin.

POWER


Turmoil beckons; 
Enticing rhythmically,
Reaching out for that, which yearns not to be his.

The façade of tranquility is just worn,
The purpose is well served. 
But not a spirit is left impervious, not a soul untouched.

Bear it well, misery it is not.
But there breathe those that draw not a happy breathe,
For breathing is not ample enough.

Why the evasion, is not love addictive enough?
But for those with shackles that blind their vision,
Its meaning is much altered.

There are those that are happy, for they love their peace.
There are those that are not, for they love not other's peace.
The world is breathing blacker; the latter creed rules.

Still life fights, there is much around.
For a bud denies the thorns the Power,
The Power to rule the heart.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Incomplete Perfection

The eyes speak a million languages, 
Lips part to enchant, 
Every breath wet with meaning 
Yet the being so incomplete?  

The soul so full of fire, 
Face reflects the flame, 
Each movement so hypnotic 
Yet the being so incomplete?   

Pristine is the grace 
Incessant is the charm, 
Every word is captivating 
Yet the being so incomplete?   

The heart throbs for no pain 
Silent is all passion 
Soul naught does forbear 
Shall the being then stay complete?