The moon rose and the sun dove,
A dream bereft of cons and prose,

Amidst the droplets, the reflection broke,
Of travellers to come and already drove,

that smile still the one to behold,
Of the dance , when the rain poured,

Of the one, the wave by the shore,
Seemingly serine, bereft of adore,

A whisper of wind, a one forest road,
Still the one to behold,
Seemingly serine, bereft of adore

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क्या एक ख्वाहिश की भी चाह होती है?
क्या एक रास्ते की भी कोई राह होती है?

क्या एक तट का भी किनारा होता है?
अनकही भी कभी कोई अफ़साना होता है?

क्या मुसाफिर का भी ठिकाना होता है?
खो जाने का भी कोई पैमाना होता है?

क्या जाना हुआ भी अनजाना होता है?
शमा का कोई परवाना होता है?

कहने को तो हर धुन का तराना होता है,
स्याही के लिए पन्ने तो बहाना होता है...

-

The ink flies down the keys,
Where the keys of the piano meet,
They write a longing song ,
And emerges the melody drawn,
The paint brush acts the part,
The colours carving a symphonic arch,
The words choreograph a dance,
The artist ponders , does it leave a mark?
Why does all this ever matter, asks the art..

-

The canvas, smothered by paint,
Capturing dreams of a convicted saint,

Colours distorting the drowning rain,
Black and white going down the drain,

Yin and Yang on a worldly train,
Slightly hanging on a clay chain,

The canvas carries the burden of pain,
of gloom , guilt, loses and gains,

The art goes on bearing the name,
Of the foregone sinners and saints...

-

At pine fig branched tree, the road turns,
where does it go, honestly,
I don't know, whether the yearn,
goes further down the road?
whether the sun, shines for
then, now and evermore?
whether the road,
leads to my God?
whether what we call God, is
there for sure?
whether what we call we, is actually there
afterall?
the search may not down be down one road, but every,
every road may meet afterall....

-

Crankling eyes , sparkling moonshine,
moon goes away
oasis dries,wind cries ,
nights stay late,
Flamboyance shies, owls lie,
sleep dozes away,
smiles cry, stillness tries,
Lines sigh, stiffness vibes,
Land flows away
still my moon goes away,
and it goes on a way......

-

The thieves have broken ,
running through the maze , clenching
at the rattraps in their haze,

The other folks have been ordained,
some deny their names,
some have surrendered to vain,
some saw in everything a stage,

Curtains drawn , lights are on,
musings to music are the constant remains..

-

The clouds sigh
When she talks,

The night dreams,
When she sleeps,

The breeze flows,
When she roams,

The melody listens,
When she sings,

The stories write,
When she reads

The petals bloom,
When she's near,

The moment pauses,
When she arrives...

-

Moon follows trail, partners the melancholic
ways,
quivering enigma of it offers an eccentric
case,
Reminiscing of the gloomy notes and the rhythmic rains,
The mist pervades around entourage of smoky trains,
Cold and drained, people move, no respite remains,
Somehow some realise this cold day's gloom is same,
as a non cloudy one , both might be offering the same,
both exuding , some hope and some pain...

-

The eyes met,
there was shyness in air,
breeze was cresendoing, flowing her
hair,
none said a thing, none would dare,
but there wasn't a need, the eyes
were there,
to share the longings engulfed in
layers,
That seeming smile could turn ignorance to care,
wicked thought to prayer,
The eyes met,
the shyness was the mist in the air...

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