"shakal" poems
Dard bhi kya sikandar hai.
Is ko na kisi ki fikar, na dar hai.
Jab yeh aata hai toh sab bhula deta hai.
Jo fateh karle toh kya ummeed kya khwahish hai.
Bas dard hi dard hai.
Dard se bachna hai.
Khushiyaan aati hai toh kisi na kisi dar ke saath.
Chhin jaane ka dar,
Nazar lag jaane ka dar,
Zyaada khush ** liye toh phir baad mein rone ka dar.
Lekin dard ko kis cheez ka dar?
Jis ka dar tha jab wohi aakar hum se lipat jaaye,
toh phir kis baat ka dar?
Kitni ajeeb baat hai,
aur yeh kaisa mazedaar rishta hai dard aur khushiyon ka.
Khushiyaan dard ka veham lekar aati hai,
toh dard ki inteha ek dhundla sa daawa khushiyon ka.
Lagta toh har kisi ko yahi hai, ke ab is dard se azaadi na mumkin hai.
Magar dard hi toh azaadi hai.
Yeh khaathma nahin.
Yeh toh khaatme ki shakal mein shuruwaat hai
----- ek nayi khushi ki, ek nayi tumhari.
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 7:01 AM UTC
Am crying heena ji
Uparo meeh pe reha
uparo gaane ewe de lage hoye ne
sala sab kuch yaad ayi janda
te u nu apne kol na dekh ke
jaan nikli ja rahi
kai dina to me jaan buj ke nai c likh reha kuj
but aj control nai hoea
life pata nai ki ban ke reh *** he
ewe lagda jiwe kuch matlb hi nai he is life da
office jao, ghar aao. Ghar wali naal bi dil ni krda chal nal gal karan da
even oh bi ro lai, ki tuci menu pyar nai krde
oh is krke roi ki usnu lagda kite me chad na dawa us nu thuhade krde
usnu thuhade to bada dar lagda he
thuhade naam to bada dar lagda he
but me fas gea ha
parso sari raat roi gea me.
ghar wali us time so rahi c
menu pata oh raat kiwe langi meri
*** koi value hi nai rakhda ***
bilkul dil nai krda
sala mausam ewe da ban gea ki
rona a gea
Thuhade husband nal dekhea c u nu.
Soh lage, maran da dil kar reha c.
dil kr reha c ki gaddi mara kite le jake
fer tuci 7 phase wali market chale gaye
uthe tuci mehndi lagwai
te me uthi wait kr reha c thuhadi
sach kaha me has jarur reha c
but andro ro reha c
thuhanu dikhana nai c chanda ki
me thuhanu dekh lea he
menu nai pata ki tuci menu dekhea ya nai
but mera koi motive nai c apni shakal
dikhan da thuhanu
Le lao badle heena ji
chup reh ke jeena bada okha he
me bi dekhda ha kinni der
chup beth sakde ** tuci
kinni patients he thuhade wich
me bi dekha.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
Kabhi mujh mein kabhi tum mein phudakti tum to rehti **
Tumhein bandish mein kya gherun ke dariya si tum behti **
[Sometimes in me sometimes in you, you keep twitching...
How can I put restrictions around you as you flow like a stream...]
Kabhi dekhun tumhein nazron ko bhar ke dil behel jaaye.....
Kabhi tum par nazar gir kar bhi nazrein bas taras jaaye.....
[Sometimes when I watch you my heart finds its contentment....
Sometimes even as I lay my eyes on you I am left with an unfulfilled yearning...]
Kabhi titli si tum guzro fiza mein rang ko phailaaye...
Kabhi khushboo si tum baslo har ek kone ko mehkaaye...
[Sometimes like a butterfly you flutter and spread colors in the air...
Sometimes like fragrance spread you stay in all corners...]
Kabhi dil ke kisi kone mein yaadon ki lo angdaayi....
Kabhi zehno vehem mein hi khayaalon ki shakal aayi...
[Sometimes in a corner of my heart you remain comfortably like a memory...
Sometimes in the mind you appear like a thought crossed...]
Kabhi main sochta *** tum haqeeqat mein ** bhi ya nahi....
Magar “Ain” e fikar se dekhun main tum hi *** main to nahi...
[Sometimes I wonder if you exist in reality...
But when I ponder over it I find that in me there’s just you I don’t even exist....]
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
I.
The armless maiden was your favorite bed-time story.
He ties my hands behind my back while my heart sings:
Here he comes! My king of the Nile!
For whom I will fight the gods with my womanly magic,
the spells of a women who’s eager to wield away
swollen lips and stained sheets
and her stained soul.
Let me tell you a tale of consumption,
of the flame and the burnt child:
He shoots an arrow into the darkness
and I beg to run after it.
II.
Cinderella is hanging from the ceiling. Her body dancing in crystal light.
Funny,
how it reminds me of the pink tutu still somewhere in my closet.
Never the graceful ballerina or the mother of the falcon,
only the princess in rags, even clumsy in my desperation,
even unable to make you smile a little.
My shakal faced God, my butcher,
you who giveth and taketh.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC