Start

I’ve been trying to write from a week now and I haven’t written much.
I wonder if this happens when you don’t write for yourself?
Death throngs this mobile keypad, my fingers are careful than ever!
I am trying to inject life.
Words will come and soon they will start to make sense
Till then let me flush this rubbish out.
Words will come , carefree and true!
How long can I sleep like a deer?
Everyday the sun must burn the blue of the sky
And the white smoke must disappear into the ocean
And the night must reveal its true colour
I don’t hate light, but there’s more to life after sunset
I like to pick the colours of my words in the dark.
And this is the beginning of a long night
Can’t wait to lit it up alive.

darya

mujhe na bata
tere dil mein kya hai
mujhe na pata
aakhir kyun ye faasla hai
ye kitna gehra hai?
ye kitna uthala hai?
manzil paas toh hai
par duur kyun lagta hai.
in faaslon ke samandar pe
banke naav utar jaaon
ik aakhri hadd hai
isko paar kar jaaon
mere dil ke sab rang
teri aankh mein bhar jaaon

Faith

to name love
is to name GOD
different
yet all the same
like how you cannot
separate air from the wind
belief is the one name
that is always.

Home

Lucky are the ones who find a home away from their own. A home that is beyond the four walls of a house where a family resides. A dear sweet spot on top of a hill, or by the sea, in a friend/ companion or maybe even within yourself.

Lucky are those who know this:

Home is where the mountains stand tall.

Home is where the waves rise and fall.

Home is where the heart is.

Home is where you are.

We leave home and wander to find ourselves. But isn't it home that we really find? They say the best journey takes you home. Perhaps the best journey houses the home within. Slowly but surely I have found home in every new place, every new city I went even if the stay turned out to be  bittersweet sometimes.

But then, there's another home . A place where everything began. A place you go when you run out of homes. The thing about this home is that it feels good to leave and it feels even better to come back each time. And you come back-

through the dark of the forests,

through the long and windy shores, through the narrow curvy roads,

through  the ache of a broken heart,

through the highs and ofcourse the lows,

to the dearest sweetest spot of them all - your HOME :)

Unsaid

how do you word these feelings?
these invisible waves
swamped all over the floor
and this poetry - a fallen brick
soaked and heavy
yet bound to flow away
finding it's fateful house one day
these feelings could then trickle into
the space within the walls
finding voice
in the music of it's echo
and so
the words need not be
I set them free.

The high road

an immaterial world made of materials
stoked and piled up on the high road
but there is juice beneath the rind
oh reckless!
don't you squash the fruit to the wind.
the high road might be frustrating
what is not unfair in this world?
but you and your body must go on
dusk till dawn
each time finding new truths
hidden in the landscapes of your mind
snow and mist
blinding sunshine
drive on!
drive nobly, beloved
it's a happy way to live.

The ministry of happiness

Have you ever wondered that we humans run ministries within our head? Think about it and you would know that we have compartmentalized our complex mind, sharing responsibilities to each one of those compartments. We have the ministry of finance, security, home, education ,public affairs, private affairs, so on and so forth.
Why did we do this ? The fundamental reason is  that we perceived happiness as a consequence of running these ministries and getting them right. The ministry of education defined us terms like skill, art, interest, creativity etc. Through these definitions we choose to become doctors,engineers, painters, journalists,  writers etc.
Now, many make wrong choices due to the interference of one ministry into the other and they attribute the root cause of their unhappiness to that. Many who make the right choices later realize that their interpretation of the terms like skill, art , interest was actually wrong. And many others who make the right choices still seem to suffer due to their unhappy ministry of finance. To conclude, no matter what choices one makes, one or the other ministry eventually starts playing the spoilsport.
Why so?
Shouldn't happiness really be a consequence of something? Of anything at all ?
Is happiness not an art ? Does it not  need skill ? Does it not need genuine interest, a great deal of creativity ?
To make my point, let me ask one more question - If you have a choice of being around a writer or a photographer or an architect or an engineer , whom would you choose ?
The answer to this would certainly depend on your own personal inclinations but sooner or later you are bound to realize that your happiness would diminish regardless.
The point I'am trying to drive home is that happiness is a ministry in itself! It deserves to be recognized and run with great deal of attention all the time. Because the art of all arts is the art of being happy. No matter who you are , what you are , where you are , you will still be unhappy if  you don't have the ministry of happiness up and running. This is the common link to all the ministries, the one that can intervene between the conflicting ones and the one that can make eternal peace within your mind!

PS: Right now I'am terribly sick, but my ministry of happiness told me write this piece :)

tum se tum tak

duniya bhar kiya talaash
khud ko paya apne paas
kehne sunne ki nahi
yeh samajhne ki hai baat
raasta naapo aao socho
khud ko khoje jaaye kaha?
dil ye namm
khoon garam
rag rag beh-beh jaaye kaha?
beh ke aana hai dariya ko
saagar paana hai dariya ko
suno ye baat
meri saugaat
khatam kar aaja ab sasta
tum se tum tak ka rasta
namm namm hai teri aankhen
gham gham hai saari raatein
hal kare apni mulakatein
hasi maze ki sab baatein
kush hojao toh zyaada
chal baate adha adha
na reh aise chur chur
dard hoga durr zaroor
suno ye baat
meri saugaat
khatam kar aaja ab sasta
tum se tum tak ka rasta

love meanwhile

her eyes are on my heart
in her heart she thinks meanwhile
if I get his love for free
only then is it worthwhile

but her heart beats my name
she conceals this silent scream
and when she opens her eyes
she wakes into a dream

she loves me more than herself
but only doesn't know
her heart must break someday
this is love she doesn't know

as much as she tests me now
she only doesn't know
she'll have to fail someday
this is love she doesn't know

shame

sometimes
I want to redeem
and eat
words
I never meant
but tended to seem
so no one shall
ever smell
or see.
lock them
deep within me
and quell
forever and a day