Usne suna tha ki peene ki baad
duniya zara rangeen hoti hai,
khayaalo ki mehfil haseen hoti hai,
par woh peeti nahi thi.
Usne gilaas hothon mein nahi,
maathe par rakha.
Uska kehna tha,
nasha itna hai agar paimaane mein,
toh jaam dekh bhar se shayad jhoom
utthe har khayaal,
zehen ke aashiyaane mein……
It races to catch up with the blooming hopes,
when expectations have not tasted experience, but ordered a celebration,
It aches in late night silence,
when darkness becomes too much for the nightmares to consume,
It breaks in attempts to be traded,
when locked doors become too much for the invitations,
even then,
it never stops beating…….
Gum bahut hai,
duniyadaari ke,
marham nadaarad,
is bimaari ke,
phir bhi har subeh,
zakhmo ko lekar,
nikalte hai gharse,
kuch haasil karne ke kiye,
naa ho toh bhi,
ghar laut te waqt ek bujhti si
muskurahat .. Ko saath lekar aate hai,
hoga kuch naa kuch kal,
yeh mann mein dohraate hai
kya hum umeed ka dil tod de,
kya hum jeena chhod de.. isse toh achha hai,
dhalti shaam ko kyun naa chaandni raat ka mod de
Late night
blurry sight,
lamp post doing waltz with darkness,
silence of sidewalk making me laugh at my mess.
I wasn’t drunk,
Just high on my mistakes,
With 12 am dew and 2 am dreams playing sweep stakes
Everytime
heart breaks,
pieces get smaller,
walls become taller,
so tall …..
that they don’t allow me,
to return and fix.
.
.
With each healing mourn,
heart becomes stone,
beats clangour,
and
make me think,
if i could chew the pieces,
glue them with saliva,
saved from all the kisses,
to make a heart,
so elastic,
that it can’t break,
instead bounces back,
after being dropped of the cliff
everytime…
They say.
i keep looking back.
No.
i don’t.
i left myself there
at a point in time
with those people
in those situations
Where
i never felt
the need
the temptation
the pressure
to skew myself
to suit
to be accepted
to be cared for
i don’t look back
i am just bored of the drama,
So i look at the real me
laughing, talking, breathing
in my thoughts
which they say
are memories …
I have crossed many a woman like her,
only she could pause my journey,
by merely looking at me,
as if
i was possessed by her eyes.
Touch was never a need,
we could stay in each others eyes for whole day
long after we left.
Suna tha chaand aaj kal kisi do kamre wale makaan mein kiraaye se rehta hai,
aaj dekh liya,
ek darwaaze se nikla, parde ko kinaare karta hua,
Waise hi jaise asmaan mein badalon ko karta hai,
Use shayaad pata tha,
ki maine dekh liya, toh uspar ek kavita zarur likhunga,
isliye
usne apna naam bhi yaha “Kavita” bataya hai,
Chaand pe daag hua karta tha,
par is Kavita pe toh nahi hai,
nazar naa lage insaano ki,
isliye usne maathe par teeka lagaya tha
Toh bas kuch aise chaand bana “Kavita”
She wasn’t the one,
you could loose flirt with at bars and cafes.
She was the one,
you could wait for,
before holding her hand for the first time
She wasn’t the one,
your senses could shamelessly grope.
She was the one,
you could wait for,
to break her shyness in your arms,
She wasn’t the one,
whose curves you could lose yourself in.
She was the one,
whose eyes carried enough foreplay,
to give fantasies an orgasm.
Biting nails,
ripping side skin,
waiting always equal to a sin.
Twitching toes,
drooping shoulders,
face sinking to new lows.
Fiddling pen caps,
pages drowned in overwritten scribble,
mind analysing probable mishaps,
Wandering eye balls,
hours passed since the last blink,
as if butterflies preparing for the eventual fall
