By mistake he ordered two coffees.
Sipped one while watching the other get cold.
A realisation was brewing in mind.
Each sip felt like tears flowing through throat.
On finishing the coffee he realised order wasn’t wrong but decision was.
By mistake he ordered two coffees.
Sipped one while watching the other get cold.
A realisation was brewing in mind.
Each sip felt like tears flowing through throat.
On finishing the coffee he realised order wasn’t wrong but decision was.
A poetry is resting on your curves,
with its lines measuring your plateaus and creeks.
A haiku is finding solace in your navel,
with a middle word of second line hanging out like piercing.
Just want to ask,
if you still offer your skin as canvas,
for my lips aren’t finding space to write a prose
Gum se woh kabhi nahi mara,
par ek khushi uski rooh ko jism se nikaal le gayi
Some left their skies
some ruining the expression drizzled from eyes,
rains are emotion or a season?
Shikaayat mein kahin bharosa tha,
shikva mein uske tootne ka darr.
Shikaayat dhero labzo ki ek dhaar thi,
shikva khamosh lehron ke saamne nakaam hoti ek patvaar thi.
Shikaayat samajhdaari ki daal se gire sabr se ghayal thi,
shikva waqt ki shaakh pe lipti umeed ki kaayal thi.
Some half told stories,
tired of waiting for an end,
embarrassed of being read,
are seeing through days for ink to fade.
Some half told stories,
afraid of suicide the climax could commit,
by reaching the last page before meeting an end,
are desperately hoping for different ends.
Some half told stories,
hoping the pen lying dead on their chest,
is lifted by a writer,
who can ferry them on his emotions to an end.
Some half told stories,
wandering through imaginations,
are curious to discover an end,
in anxious beats of desperate souls
Everytime the shadow won’t fall back,
to cover up,
stumbled footprints…
you were on my speed dial,
while i topped your missed call charts,
saw things were falling, still hope was in denial,
while you were busy building a life apart,
i gave up my flight to make you walk again,
and after a few steps, you shunned my hand,
pushing me aside like an unwanted end,
not bothering to look back,
leaving me wounded in pain.
I thought …
ripping the watch off the wrist,
would change the times,
sipping dew beneath the mist,
would quench the thirsts,
keeping hands off the thread,
would skip being culprit of the knots,
letting a tear off the eye,
would prevent the bubble bursts,
begetting words through eyes,
would escape the misquotes,
forgetting the ties,
would push the emotions away,
but it didn’t happen…
years were deprived of a minute,
sips weren’t enough to drown the thirst,
knots transpired to cast a web,
a tear moved out stealing all the pearls,
choked words couldn’t reach the eyes,
memories of the left held emotions to ransom,
and
the chaos survived
Umr aur waqt se aage badhe,
par khayaal umeedon aur yaadon ke beech wahi the.
Auhde aur zimmedaari se aage badhe,
par faasla ghar aur naukri ke beech wahi tha.
Nakaamiyo aur hatasha se aage badhe,
par “yun hota toh kya hota” is haseen sapne aur haqeqat ke beech palkon ke jhapak wahi thi.
Kuch kadmo ke saath chalne aur kuch haatho ke chhotne se aage badhe,
par nayaab mehfilo aur bhoola denewale vaakyo ke beech log wahi the.