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Sunday, October 25, 2009


कभी कभी गुज़र जाते हैं
ढेर सारे सपनों और रंगों का बोझ लिए,
डरे डरे से, थके हुए
बिना कुछ स्याही से लिखे , कहीं
बस यूहीं..

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

The broken Dream..

I don't really remember
how old I was
when I first breathed
the smell of rain

It never occured to me then
that this is how
looking at the parched earth
meeting water
I had welcomed the knowledge of pain

Looking at innocuous blossoms
against a clear blue sky
I unknowingly found answers
to every single why

I shaped my right and wrong
and forged in into every poem and song
wove it with colorful dreams
which lay lazily under sunlit beams

I learnt to talk to the moon by my own
and share with it all my fears
for I had heard many stories
of the hefty price of tears
I sat in a thoughtful poets' pose
on a full moon night
I did not care then to know
of how to usher in the morning light

But then, they started growing, moving
often turning in my sleep
Beginning to paint their own pictures
Secretly, somewhere deep

For long I neglected
found more words and thoughts
to feed their growing appetite
and all the attention that they sought

But when I could no longer contain
that irresistible want for reality
I took the chance and
gifted them to this world's duality

For a while, it was all beautiful and fine
and I could hear the distant wind chime
I smiled at passing flowers
and words for me, still rhymed

But then, day by day,
something scraped a little of them away
hurting in the process
as they struggled to grow and stay

It was a long long illness
that left so many scars
like the memoirs of
long  forgotten dead stars

I smile sometimes
sometimes I cry
At other times
I simply try

To have them once again rest
with their wings on the flower bed
and let them feel the sunlight alone
and watch from far instead

But I know its different and they are shy
I sometimes have even heard them cry
I ask them of what took away that desire
to flow tirelessly and never retire

At last, one day in a casual reflection
without the least intent of inspection
I noticed the crack that I had long ignored
that I had assumed time would have cured
lying wearily under that sunlit beam
in the light of the day
I saw "the broken dream"