shraddha pawar   (sp)
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Joined 31 January 2017

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Joined 31 January 2017
12 SEP AT 20:58

I know where you went long
before you vanished inside your names
of hundred and eight times
they asked but never answered.
I know how you found us,
a deserted sparrow glancing
through the windowsill
awaiting grass to rustle out of concrete;
perhaps a cattle, strewn across the street
until the air dries
choking the sea
with dust gathered in guts,
and rope around the necks.

(Continued in caption)


18 AUG AT 23:43

शिकस्ता कलम ने कागज़ को क़ब्र बनाया 
ता-उम्र लिखता गया जो कभी जी नहीं पाया 


17 AUG AT 20:39

"On my way!"
He texted.

She grinned. 


8 AUG AT 21:20

We met 
one last
stood still


30 JUL AT 22:14

they say,
is like a magic trick.

The more you find out,
the less you believe in it.


24 JUL AT 22:56

उसने मुझे ग़ौर से निहारा
और कहा
"तुम अब पहले जैसे नहीं रही"
यह सुनते ही मैंने कुर्बत से
ख़ुदमे झाँका
एक हरी पैरहन थी
जिसका आधे से ज्यादा हिस्सा
सिकुड़ चुका था 
कुछ बच्चे थे
जिन्होंने दहलीज़ पर खेलते हुए
अपने मक़ाम का अंत देखा,
और उसके भीतर अपनों का
कल समंदर गुजर गया था
यहीं से,
जो आज सिर्फ रेगिस्तान है|
किसी और की वासना को
ढौलने के प्रयास में,
इन हाथों की लक़ीरें
माथें पर झलकी,
फिर कल वही नस्ल क्रांति-सी
महामारी की त्रासदी लिए
चौराहें पे लौट आयी
सबकुछ ठीक होने की आशा में,
धरती ने सूरज से हँसकर कहा -
"बदलाव ज़रूरी था"...


13 JUL AT 22:48

Kafka on the shore,
memories tear you apart.
The vague remembrance
of devotion we immersed
on that coastline,
strike back like the soothing waves
on a scorching strand.
Kafka on the shore,
I quest your existence
in shells and gravels
longing a love so deep
even the ocean would turn envious.
Kafka on the shore,
did we walk too far till sundown
or close enough
to survive the dark alone?
I am recollecting
the speck of your shadow
from drifted laughs,
sinking dreams as grains of sand
slipped easily through our palms.
Kafka on the shore,
memories tear you apart
Murakami wasn’t wrong,
but just as the grains of sand
it is easier to let slip
what you refuse to hold for long.


14 JUN AT 22:09

अपने खुद के अभिनय में मग्न,
we live as if it is reel -
क्यों हम किसी नाटक के ख़त्म होने से ठीक पहले
उस किरदार को नहीं बता पाते 
की मात्र उसका वजूद
एक सफ़ल प्रयास था?

(In memory of SSR
/ Continued in caption)


11 JUN AT 20:25

The pouring rain
once again called for Two cups of tea.

"You are the only one
who can't parch my heart"
she toasted,

as the mirror reflected her smile.


8 JUN AT 21:42

You are the ocean
that brought cyclones
for the moon
I was just another river
waiting to flow
into you


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