It rained


It rained.


It rained on the glass pane

drops sliding against the surface

like tears rolling down the cheeks.


It rained on the tin roof top

in a slow rhythm

like a old man’s heart beat.


It rained on the yellow leaf

which may fall tomorrow,

the droplets stayed back

like wishes before death.


It rained on the moment that passed by.

It rained on the moment that stayed by.


Snapshot Of A Moment

She snatched the memories too close to her,

woven in a silky string of delicate relations.

It slipped, broke and beads were all scattered

She could hear the twang and beads jumping on the floor.

Disorganized, random memories making abstract picture.

Some memories were on focus. Clear, bright and visible.

Rest were hazy, trying to escape through the memory lane.

Together, they were snapshot of a moment.

There lies a promise

In every fold, there lies a promise.

In the fist of a new born baby

and the letter folded neatly in a envelope.

In the petals of buds yet to bloom

and in the leave about to open up.

In the hair locks on face of a new bride

In her new clothes stacked in a row

and it’s every fold, there lies a promise.


हर रात की अपनी एक खुशबू होती हैं

कुछ में तन्हाई, रजनीगंधा सी महक उठती हैं
कुछ पुरानी जुदाईओं को आपके ख्यालों में पिरोती हैं
कुछ बेला की लताओं जैसे आपसे लिपट जाती हैं

कुछ उस बेबस औरत सी आपको लगती हैं
जो कभी आप हो, पर कह नहीं पाते
कुछ आवारा मंडराती भवरों सी
कुछ बिगड़े बच्चों की छटपटाहट सी

इन्ही में से एक रात भेजी है तुम्हे, बंद एक लिफाफे में
सारे काम छोड़, सौंप देना खुद को उसके हवालें
नहीं … कुछ पाने के लिए नहीं
सबकुछ खो देने की लालच में

इसी रात में, जोड़ पाओं अगर ख़ुद को ख़ुद से
तो कल की पहली धूप कर देना मेरे हवाले

ख़लिश सी हैं


रूहानी कुछ शब्द कहे थे तुमने
हसीन ख्याब के साये पले थे वो

ख़लिश सी हैं की .. अब महज़ एक याद है वो 

ग़ालिब और फ़ैज़ के पन्नो से उठाकर
लाए थे कुछ शेर तुम मुझतक
“हम” शब्द से एक ख़्याल बुना था जो

ख़लिश सी हैं की .. अब महज़ एक याद है वो

एक कविता भी लिखी थी तुमने
ज़िक्र मेरा भी था उसमे
मरते इनसां सा पाक जस्बां था वो

ख़लिश सी हैं की .. अब महज़ एक याद है वो

.. so ?

.. yes.. may be I don’t know him that well

but I ..

know his dreams, disillusion and discomforts
the color of his eyes and the smell of him
the stretch marks, black moles and cuts
the injuries .. on his skin and on memories
the childhood etched in sweet sibling rivalry
the mistakes of his youth and pride of loss
the dried flowers in his old unused dairies
the slips, slang, revenge and redemption
the poem which he baked in the sunshine
the phrase which he placed well in the bin
the nostalgia that defines his subdued pride
the faces from past which still bring his spark
the idiosyncrasies, day dreams and escapism
the care out of love and love out of fear of loss
the abrupt switch of his thoughts and silly jokes
the pain in his happiness and that half smile

I thought .. I know quite a lot.. but may be not..