i tuck in the right end
of the saree
checking for excess at the bottom,
like revising, rewording, deleting words
from a poem.
turn once,
tuck in again
make up my mind about
how i want the pallu,
like i decide the end
before writing the beginning.
then comes the folding
which i invariably get wrong
the first time
every time
much like the infinitely pressed
backspace key, followed by
almost desperate slapping of keys.
i breath a sigh of relief
as i pin the pallu, content,
before i move on
to the daunting gathers -
the middle of the poem
that looks the same for all
but i convince myself otherwise
and look in the mirror
and find a poem smiling back at me.

शाम हो गई, अब चाँद भी ढला
वक़्त पर सोए ज़माना हो गया

कई दिनों बाद आज मालकौंस सुना
रोते रोते हँसकर ज़माना हो गया

आज एक बार फिर ख़ुद की याद आई
पर आईना देख कर ज़माना हो गया

ग़ज़लें, नज़्में, शायरियाँ लिखीं
तुमको भुलाकर ज़माना हो गया

ज़माने की क्या बात है, वो तो कहता रहेगा
मगर उसकी बात सुनकर ज़माना हो गया