Friday, 5 August 2011


Let's go back to those raw pages
When words had not found pain
Hopelessness had not dimmed sight
Isolation had not marked oceanic distances
Tears had not coursed a way through joy
Sculpting a jagged path amidst innocence
Death had not bereaved solitude

A smile had lit the irises of the eyes
A dream had welcomed each night
A hope had shown us the way
A hand had extended in support
When I had tripped and was about to fall

Lets go back to those days of speechless empathy
Look into each other's eyes
And find thousand stars glimmering love
Let's start afresh my friend
Let's begin from the very beginning

Saturday, 9 July 2011


As the somber clouds stoop low
On the countenance of the earth
Suffocating her benign breath
Almost engulfing her very existence
I pick up my pen
Not to discuss the impending rains
But the ordinary routine lives of thousands of men
Who toil every hour no less for survival
Than to nurture mediocre aspirations
Which give them purpose to push on
A little more than the rest
Who beguile life with their unimportant dreams
Like perhaps loosing a few pounds
Or passing an exam
Or more mundane insignificant things
I too am one of them
And today as I sit by my big window
I wish it pours like a mad squall
Brushing past my equally unambitious thoughts
Washing away all the drudgery of hard,
Sometimes half hearted work
The diffidence of not winning
The desperation of a battle
The defeat of an imbecile
The cry, the festering wound, the inchoate prattle
Every murk, every grime
Every bead of sweat
Every drop of moon beam
Each ray of sunshine
Let the rain deluge the earth
And its army of slogging men
Her doddering civilizations
Her dwindling fame
Let it merge in chaotic rhyme
Into the solemn symphony of endless game
Today just let it rain...

Sunday, 17 April 2011


It was not a bright morning
The clouds seemed to hover around
Dark, stooping, frowning
Throttling sun’s gaiety
Blotting warmth with thousand
Rasping breath
They bore down heavily on earth

The afternoon was interplay of
Shadow and light
It drizzled a little all of a sudden
And then stopped whimsically
Enveloping the trees with
Claustrophobic suspense

It was an early evening as Sun
Went home westward a little too fast
Without pausing or looking back
The moon covered its face
Under the coverlet of dusk
Tossed and turned before falling asleep
The stars went romping around to
An unknown land

I sailed out umbrella in hand
For my evening walk
The paths were slippery
Puddles and pools dotted abound
Carefully skirting the hurdles
I picked up speed
Inhaling deeply the rainy wafts of soil
O’ what bliss!

Now its night pitch black
Plok! Plop! I hear the flopping
Noise of the droplets
Slithering off the palms
Of the exhausted fronds and leaves
A heady fragrance hugs the breeze
Some nameless bloom
Woken up in the lap of darkness

As I sit in front of my big window
I wonder whether it will
Rain pell mell after a while
Drenching, drowning creation
In a frenzied downpour
Quenching thirst, want
Desires unleashed
Will it melt the sky?
Into cascades of torrent
In the arms of the earth
Uninhibited, unbridled, impassioned
Will it whisper into night’ ears
Songs unsung, tales untold, poems unheard
May be or perhaps not
But I shall wait just next to my window
Endlessly till the dewy dawn
To witness the earth and sky
Be one in divine embrace

Thursday, 24 March 2011


Life goes on like a prancing stream
When I wake up from my dreams
I shall feel the rugged stones
The jagged ends
The uneven tones
Till then let the ripples dance
The dreams waltz
The stream prance


I am alone
Once again
With my thoughts

I am alone
Once again
In the rain

I am alone
Once again
In the shade

As the rain pelts
I take shelter
Under the shade
Of a friendly tree
Laden with fruits
Leaves and branches
Chirping birds
Humming bees
Blooming buds
Petal hugs
Pouring thoughts
I am alone
Once again


I have lately got into this very bad habit of scribbling - as soon as I can snatch a piece of paper, be it the corner of a yellowing packet, old/current newspaper, screwed up paper balls (which I straighten out with great care), dog-eared slice of a page, in short, anything and everything, which falls within the category of papyrus, my pen goes crawling all over it and lovingly so.

Lately, I have also found a fascination for haikus, though my mentors tell me I got them all wrong when I try to create one and that I should get some help in the form of workshops,, tutelage under Kalaji, the well known internationally acclaimed haiku poetess etc. etc. But stubborn attempts as you may call it, I refuse to take the good and sane advices extended and keep on scratching on virgin lands scripting thoughts which even if go un-etched, will not bother the world at all.

So, coming to haikus – mine are never what they are intended to be. At best these may be called “shykus” as I shy away from conventions guarding this unique form of poetry or “trykus” as they follow the hit and trial route. One of my net friends coined her own fiasco as “mykus”. Borrowing the nuance from her kitty, I write on. Given below are some of my pet disasters. It depends on the reader’s imagination to fathom what they actually are and under what caption these may be placed:

Jotting down chores
A day’s too short

For old age
Dwindling assets

Lost my way
Turning around
Bump into a dead end

Reposes serenely on
A sheaf blank
A page mark

I scribble
Scampers past
A squirrel

A few drops of rain
My Elovera
Is green again

A few drops of sun
Blooming lilies
So much fun

An old film song
Waft in air
Memories fond

A few stars
Dancing in the pond
Glimpses from the road beyond

At this bend
A cluster of thoughts
On strained end

Crumpled in a purse
Old and yellow
A forlorn snapshot


Hurt myself
Right knee, wrist in braces
Tapping the keyboard
Painful, takes time
Red gashes, blue black bruises
Burn in the night

As I look up
Cobwebs meet the eyes
Prismatic in the sunshine
Unwashed piles
Heaped in the tub
Study desk littered
With papers unclasped
Bills to be paid
Letters to be replied
E-mails to be sent
Notes to be filed
Unfinished readings
A few DVDs bought
Still not watched
Kitchen unclean
Sink’s overflowing
Dirty dishes, cups ‘n pans
Leaves in the garden sag
Yellowing at the borders
Laze in one corner,
Pet yelps throughout the night
Worms most probably
Gonna see the vet
Some day, alright
Warm clothes dumped
On the bed
Summer clothes stacked in
Unpacked not yet
Phone from the bank
“Can’t come,” I said
Cupboards in a mess
So is life…..

So much to worry
No time in hand
Doctor’s prescribed
One week’s rest

Wednesday, 23 March 2011


Waiting for summer
The frozen, gray mist
Wither in bloom

Thursday, 17 March 2011


Why is it that my hands stretch out
readily to uncork the jar
of cheese lings, while the depressive
oranges groan in the cane basket ?

Why is it that Chicken Butter Masala
leaves me salivating for more
While the salads sulk in one
sad corner of the lunch plate ?

Why is it that a dream full snooze
attracts my leisure hours
more than an early morning stroll
on the grass bordering the pavements ?

Why is it that a steep climb up the steps
Is resisted and the love for the
snaking escalator in the mall and the metro
grow more and more by the day ?

I have a sweet tooth for long
which I cannot give up
An insatiable cola thirst
which I don't want to renounce

A hot bland soup is good
if accompanied by crispy sizzlers
A glass of cold fruit juice
is just my kind of appetizer

My sister keeps hinting at a
personal trainer while my
doctor the other day reiterated
"Madam! you know you must do
something about your weight"
"Oh! let me live life to the Leese
doc!" In response I said


The shepherd boy lives by a happy stream
Jumping over a pebbled path without a break
As the sage like mountains watch with a scowl
A few huts sleep by the dancing waves
A gay flute fills the afternoon sky
Crooning a tale to the grazing sheep
As the fire dies down behind the peaks
The boy returns home with his gay herd
To have a frugal meal and retire to bed
At night when he tosses and turns on his sides
The guns roar a lullaby on the other end
Listening to the drumming drone every night
The boy peacefully goes off to sleep

The other night was unusually calm
The stars shone cheerfully bright
The moon beamed like a crystal maze
And the guns bellowed not
A single song throughout the night

The boy next day was late
To his work
Not a wink did he sleep
The previous night


She sang spring while I saw winter in the shadows of her eyes
I stooped low to croon into her ears “Everything’s gonna be fine, y’know”
Her cheeks glowed while bad breath fanned my face
She and the bedspread looked alike
Puritan, sparse, clinical the room with heavy drapes
Sculpted shadows while hopes fled to a distant land
The doctor with the bald head and a grey sprinkle of a moustache
Shook his head gravely and said, “Call her friends and relatives, if you may,
Cancer, you know, it is the last stage.”

How do I tell the doc her spirit is still wild?
The Bohemian nights, the party prowls?
The mornings with the endless cups of steaming black coffee?

I let the mobile ring before I mouthed a “Hullo”
It was difficult to tell
How do you describe hell?
What address do you write?
When the soul says au Revoire
It’s all over now……..

The nurse with the dark brown eyes
Said soothingly,” It’s been a bad night
Why don’t you go down and have a cup of tea?”
My legs strained.

In the canteen on the ground floor
Somebody had thoughtfully left
The morning news paper on the table
As I sipped a tasteless cup
My eyes went involuntarily to the headlines
‘The Government proudly announces
The setting up of a new Nuclear Power Plant
On some remote soil………”

I remembered her Chemo sessions
And putting my head down
Onto the crook of my arm
Resting on the dirty table
I wept like a child……….


He mirrors a mask

A profile camouflaged

Anonymous he prowls

A hiss, a venomous spit

You know he is around

A ruinous mind, a callous tongue

Dubious descendants

Around he hangs

Suave, svelte, smooth as silk

Till he belches fire and gore

An abuse, slang, blame, a barb

Prickly thorns, thistles sharp

I meet him often

On my poems and tales

So do others

As he snakes and slithers

My soul sis tasted the poison and said

“Oh don’t bother! He’s a troll”

I shook my head and said,

“No! I think he’s just a troubled soul”

Sunday, 6 March 2011


मुझे प्यास थी इतनी
की सूरज निगल गई
अब राख के ढेर पर
लहू आग बरसाता है

मैं तपिश मैं माचिस
खून में क़त्ल हो गई
अब रूह देह खोजता
पूरी रात जगाता ही

In my wandering thirst
I gulped down the sun
I trip on the ashes now
As blood oozes fire

Ember am I and also the flame
Wandering in dirty, soiled veins
An aimless soul seeking a home
Stalks a body through sleepless nights

Wednesday, 23 February 2011


आज सुबह देखा
कुछ टूटे फूटे गमलों में
मिटटी के धेले पड़े थे
उनमें कोमल पत्तियां
और जंगली फूल उग आयें हैं कई
बिना पानी डाले
बिना खाद छिडके
माली ने कहा "निकाल देता हूँ बीबीजी
काम का नहीं हैं ये कोई
न नाम न ज़ात का पता"
मैंने कहा " रहने दो इन्हें वही
येही तो सबूत है के
वह आस पास ही है
हमारे परम पिता
जो ज़ात न देखे पात
केवल लिखता है कविता
मिटटी के सियाही से
धरती के सीने पर
इन पंक्तियों को यही पड़े
रहने दो दोस्त
किसी अनमने बच्चे की
खेल खेल में उभरी
किलकारियां समझ कर"

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

কেনো জানিনা

কেনো জানিনা বাড়ির দিকে যেতে যেতে

হঠাত্ মনে হয় রাস্তাটা যদি যায় বেঁকে

তাহলে কতই না মজা হয়

অজানা কোনো সফরে

চলে যাই পালিয়ে

Tuesday, 15 February 2011


কিছু কাপ চা
বড জামবাটি ভরা
মুডি মাখা
রেকাবিতে রাখা মিষ্টি কখানা
আর অনেকগুলো পুরনো দিনের কথা

দুপুর গডিযে বিকেল যে হবে
আড্ডাটা জমবে ভালো
এমাসের চোদ্দো তারিখ

থাকবে মনে ?

নেমনতন্নো রইলো যে রাখা
আসবে তো ? এসো কিন্তু
:! বাডীর হদিস হয়নি যে বলা
বডই সোজা
দেউডি পেরিয়ে ফটক
ফটক পেরিয়ে দালান
দালান পেরিয়ে বসবার ঘর
ছবির মতন আঁকা

আরে ! কার্ড যে হয়নি ছাপা
তাতে কিছু যায় আসে না
হৃদয়ের পটে স্বর্ণ আখরে
ঠিকানা যে আছে লেখা

Saturday, 12 February 2011

वाह रे किस्मत !!!

ख्वाबों में बेखयाल रहे पर्दा न किया
अब जो सामने आये तो घूँघट में
लपेट लाये ख्वाबों को

वाह रे किस्मत!
बेपर्दा रहे और पर्दानशीं भी
ज़माने के रवायतों को किस कदर
खूबसूरती से
अदा न किया और अदा भी .........

उनसे कहना था...

जब उनसे पहली बार मिले
तो बस एक ही ख्याल आया
ज़हन में
पता नहीं कहाँ छुपा रखा होगा
उन आंसुओं को
जो रह रह के छलक रही थी
ठहाकों में

एक बूँद गर टपक जाती तो
शायद चैन आ जाता
एक बूँद की कमी थी
जो रह रह के सताती रही
सरेशाम रूह को

उनसे मिले तो बस
यह ख्याल आया
ज़हन में
के दर्द छुपाने से
फनाह नहीं होता
बेपनाह, सिसकती हैं ख्वाबों में
नींद में कसक मसक के
कराहती है
एक आंसू की ही तो बात है
गिर जाने दो
बह जाने से कीमत कम
नहीं होती इनकी

उनसे मिले तो यह
ख्याल कचोटती रही
मन को
उनसे यह बातें कह पाते
तो अच्छा होता

Friday, 11 February 2011

तुम से

एक मुद्दत बाद मिले हो तुम इक ख़त में
एक मुद्दत हो गयी हैं मिले आसमानों से परे


सुना था दीवारों के चेहरे होते हैं कई
पर अब तो चेहरों पे दीवारें बन गयी हैं
रूह घुट सी रही है कहीं

Thursday, 10 February 2011

आपसे कहना है...........

बहुत देर से गूंज रही है सिसकियाँ सन्नाटों की
कुछ तो कहिये के यह खामोशियां पिघल जाए
दिल में चुभ गयी है, होठों से सिली हुई है कहानियां
यह आवाजें चुप में भी सदियाँ लपेट रहीं है
"गाँठ आज खोल ही दीजे", सरसराती हवाएं
कानों तक आ लौट गयी पुकार के नाम आपका
कुछ तो कहिये, बस अब कह भी दीजिये..............
हताश हो अर्जियां मेरी फिर न खाली हाथ जाएँ

Friday, 4 February 2011


The other day I met Mr. A
In the market place
After exchanging a few pleasantries
He asked me finally
“What do you do nowadays?”
I stuttered and stammered
Coughed apologetically
Bowing my head, counted the toe nails laconically
Perhaps a tad too long
“So, no work is it?”
He gauged my hesitation quite easily
I said,” No, not that!
Actually I am concentrating on poetry.”
He looked aghast,
“What??? You write poems!
Well! My God! I did not know that for sure!”
“No, no, nothing extraordinary.
Just a few lines here and there”, I blushed.
“But still”, Said Mr. A
Squinting his eyes against the sun
While a hint of humour played in them
When next he spoke sarcasm dripped
From his every word,
Children aspire to become
Doctors, Engineers, Lawyers
You’ve become a poet
An achievement undoubtedly for some!”
I suffered in silence
As he continued after a while,
“Filling up blank pages with worthless words,
You must be making your mother very proud!”

Something stirred inside me
I don’t know what
But a few droplets of pain did sting my eyes
That night in a fit of rebellion
I threw away my diaries and notepads
Filled with “worthless words”
Where the dusty newspapers were stacked.
Next day was Sunday
My maid in a flurry of spring cleaning
Sold away the newspapers and
the jungle of “worthless words” just for a few pennies


A few months later………..
It was a winter noon
I was dozing in the sun
When my mother came up to the terrace
With a packet full of roasted nuts.
Thrusting the paper packet in my hand,
She said,“Good for health, have some”.

I took the packet and upturned
As I did so my eyes fell on
The scribbles shining in the sun
The writing looked familiar
Oh yes! It was mine
So, were the thoughts penned in pensive mood and mind
I could not read them but
As my vision blurred
It was not the dew drops
But tears that flowed unstopped
A little girl and her words
That had washed away in the flood of
Cruel snide and taunts
Worthless he had said
Not fit for competitive exams
But those were my thoughts
Precious to my soul
As the droplets smudged
The pouring of my heart
Somewhere in the midst of the barrage of tears
I was cleansed of my sin
Life had come full circle
The muse of a worthless being
Had returned to her in a packet
Of roasted nuts, useless though it may seem!

(This poem refers to a time when many a households earned a modest living by making paper packets from discarded paper, newspapers, books, diaries and note books)


Myopic eyes stared hard
Into a pair of shriveled palms
Ochre designs of an unknown pen
Blackened now with grieving stains
Of t he rubbed the grubby grease
With a bony thumb lacking ease
Hours ticked by in warring muse
With God perhaps a wordless ruse
And then he shifted his vacant gaze
To the limitless yonder, his face
Crowding with bewildered haze
Shrugged his shoulders brittle and bent
Clutched the air with creased hands
Failing which shook his head
I stood watching him instead
Oscillating between dread and hope
Perhaps it’s better not to probe
But bumping into my questioning gape
The ancient cheeks did suddenly break
Into toothless mirth as the words fated
Echoed wild in a deep brood
“Dunno what went wrong and where
Gal., the lines looked so damn smooth!”


Wednesday, 19 January 2011


Do I present a bleak portray?
Do I distort the truth anyway?
Do I image with a jaundiced eye?
When I glibly say
That there is
an “ordinariness” to our lives
A staleness which permeates
Every nook of breath
As we proceed with the
“Goings” of life
Birth, adolescence, marriage procreation,
Decay and death
With an accepted ease
Without raising an eyebrow
We chart a path well trodden
The same way as we do
Millions before have done
There is nothing new
We do not question
We do not venture astray
just walk by like wandering gypsies
Perhaps in quest of the final call of the day
When a meteor strikes the earth
A crater dents the crust
We look at each other and accusingly say
“You did dare break the rut
Doom befalls you next”

Am I wrong when I say
There is an “ordinariness” to our lives
Which is here for aeons to stay