Me moti hoo par khubsurat hoo
Me kaaali hoo par khubsurat hoo
Me naati hoo par khubsurat hoo
Me sundar nahi par khubsurat hoo
Me toh bus me hoo isliye khubsurat hoo

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Crumpled green skirt and frayed shirt with a few button missing which has been worn for days, hair spilling in her eyes, no shoes or chappals, Moina was youngest of 5 siblings. A child, just like any other in her basti, except for her red swollen eyes, hazy with tears. All she did was ask for a chapatti.

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an ice icream in hand
licking to feel the cold on her tongue
his breath melting it to ooze out
numb cold lips tingling at his touch
tango of hot and cold
teasing, kissing and laughing
bites of sweetness melting into each other
together finishing what thy started

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waiting cold shivering desire of the lips,
tasting the hot flames of ur breath
the warmth devouring me
till rhytm of our souls beat as one

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zindagi ke kuch falsafe samjha kar
gaye jo wo
ab jo hum sayane hue toh
kuch toh ab sambhal jayenge
kuch toh ab badal jayenge

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roz ek nayi umeed jagati hai
roz ek shama bujhati hai
shaam dhale toh kabhi bula lena
savere beshak bhula dena

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सोचा था मै बस जाउ इस शहर मे
जाने कब ये बस गया मुझमें

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dhundh laya huN me ek apsara
jiska seerat-e-haal tere pehle sa hai
tu jo chod gaya mujhko
ab teri seerat or surat me fark zahir hai bazzar me

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kuch barbad hone se apne ko yun bachaya
in ansuoyo ko harfoN me barsaya

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tujhse mulakat toh roz hoti hai
intezzar hai kab nazroN ki baat ho

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