There is no point in flowery words
If there isn't a gritty security
a protection from the real world
The poet takes backseat
and a man, a hunter gatherer
navigates the world to gather
as much as possible so that he feels he deserves loving you
The odds are impossible
but he would give a fight
He knew that he stood no chance so he didn't give a try
But what if his kundalini has chosen you, not him, but his kundalini
He bared all he had, even the things he hid from the world
In the hope that the eighteen year old girl in you finds him deserving of her love
It's all finance and no romance
Obligations of family, burdened by the mundane debts of spouse, he carries you in his heart, hidden within him somewhere the man you deserve
It's cutthroat, dog eat dog,
One man against an army
But love makes you climb mountains, and break them
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रोशनी से नहाई सड़कों पर
हम चलते ले कर हाथों में हाथ,
दुनिया सिमट सी जाती,
चंद लम्हों में।
ठंडी हवाओं के झोंको से
तुम्हारी लटें करती अठखेलियां
और मैं डूबता तुम्हारी आंखों
की गहराइयों में।
चंद लम्हे और लम्बे फासले,
कुछ यादें और दिल में उबारता एक गुबार,
दुनिया खा जाती है मोहब्बत को,
और बच जाता है एक भागता इंसान।
दीवारों को धक्का देता,
अपने खयालों में डूबा,
बारिशों को याद करता एक इंसान,
आज भी उन सड़कों पर घूमता है।
-
हृदय स्पंदन, मधुर बंधन,
मिलते हैं जीवन में अनुभव,
जो रह जाते जैसे चंदन।
प्रेम की पीड़ा, अद्भुत क्रीड़ा,
हृदय धड़कता, मन अचंभित,
प्रेम समेटे कैसे ये मन।
तन सुगंधित, जैसे उपवन,
मन जैसे एक ताल हो शीतल,
प्रेम का बंधक करता हृदय को अर्पण।
सोते इस मन को जगाया,
जीवन में भरे नवरंग,
प्रेम प्रतिज्ञा, हृदय की आज्ञा,
बेसुध मन करे समर्पण।
-
कोमल पुष्पों की शय्या पर विघटित
मानस का एक स्वरूप,
खंडित मानस, हृदय पुलकित,
दिवास्वप्न ये प्रेम।
योद्धा जीवन, प्रेम से सिंचित,
जीवन को मिलता एक अर्थ।
समय बींधता कोमल यौवन,
प्रेम नहीं यौवन का दास।
अर्थहीन शब्दों से लगे कैसे इस हृदय का मोल,
होता संसार न एक कारगार, तो देता तुमको मैं बोल,
तुम्ही हो वो लक्ष्य, जिसको पाने मैं चलता था,
चरम से करता संघर्ष, तुमको ही मैं हृदय में रखता था।
विकट से लड़ा, अभी भी मैं खड़ा,
जानता हूं, अब योद्धा नहीं जी पाते,
विकृत संसार में, विकृतियों के मध्य,
प्रेम पुष्प अब नही खिल पाते।
आत्मा थकी, हृदय में है आशा,
कोई संसार ऐसा होगा,
जहां मैं तुम्हे वह सब बताता,
जो खंडित होने से पहले मैंने था सोचा।
एक, एकमात्र, एवं सदैव,
अगर होता तो ये ही होता,
पुष्प का भ्रमर, सूर्य का सूरजमुखी,
एक थका योद्धा तुम्हारी छांव में सोता।
-
She is his truth serum,
She is someone to whom he has never lied to.
He had women that he lied to,
Small lies, to get their attention,
But as he grew into a man he realised
A man shouldn't have to lie to get a woman.
He saw a dream come true in front of his eyes.
The kind woman of his dreams
Acknowledged him and his feelings
And that was enough for him for a lifetime.
He wants to show her his wounds.
He wants to see her wounds and heal them.
He wants to make her smell the scent of khaskhas from the desert cooler when he used to read comicbooks in the hot afternoons of summer holidays.
He wants to tell her how he used to secretly read women's magazines of his mother.
He wants to take her to his village when he used to sleep on mattresses on the rooftop under the starry night only to wake up in the homely chill of the mornings.
He wants to tell her about how he carried the world on his shoulders for more than a decade.
How he, holding the finger of his grandfather went to buy the latest copy of his favourite children's magazine.
The things that he wants to show her can only be seen by someone who has known real love.
And that's why he has never lied to her.-
A long drive into the setting sun is the dream.
A man in straitjacket unable to drive,
Building a life he doesn't want to build, but then it's life.
To get more worldly, I would smell the scent of Ezee from your pullover.
To get more worldly, I would compare the schools I studied in, and the ones you did.
To get more worldly, I would compare how I'm still struggling to be the man that I think you deserve.
My heart deserves your heart, and that I know in my heart,
But life is not about what hearts deserve,
It's about what the stomachs deserve,
It's about what bank accounts deserve.
You inspire in me, a comedian, a poet, a man wanting to give you anything you want.
You inspire me to give you the best in me that I kept hidden from everyone else.
I'm forged in pain, and being a healer I knew that the only thing that could ever heal me was you.
But the world is not about healing, it's about stomachs and bank accounts.
You make me believe in next life, maybe then I would have what I think you deserve, maybe then I would be a good driver, and we would drive into the sunset smoking cigarettes.
-
Was she a girl that wanted to save a boy?
Cause he was a boy who wanted to be saved once,
Shattered into pieces, he rebuilt himself brick by brick,
Pain becoming the mortar.
The one who would save him never arrived
Until that kiss that melted his being, making him realise
That there is more to being human than what Darwin says.
Love is personal, alchemy of souls is not,
Languages differ, essences speak to each other.
Her scent smells to him like home, always, forever.
Some poets are warriors,
Some are cowards,
And some just write to soothe their souls.
Wounds of souls are an epidemic,
They not special.
Healed and scarred,
He watches her from afar.
The boy would compensate each day for the reasons he couldn't get her, effortlessly.
When someone makes you feel Darwin is wrong,
They are right for you.
-
I'm afraid, that I won't be able to be of use,
When I'm needed,
It's this fear that keeps me distant.
Two different worlds, one of vineyards and one of quilts in winter with hot tea.
What I feel for you is very sacred,
And if you want
Has the potential of becoming very dirty.
A chasm, of social divides, between us,
A mountain of survival
And I have realised the futility of climbing it.
Yet, I'll climb the mountain, to convince myself that I deserve you, or die trying.
Some birds mate for life,
Some men become lonely for a lifetime.
It could've been that I could've shown you the world of quilts and hot tea in winters, and taken you to vineyards where they display quotes of rockstars who die young.
My dignity stops me from crossing the chasm of social divide, and yet I'm yours.
Consider me your geisha, who has stories to tell,
Consider me your slave, your who*e, your anything,
Just consider me yours.
-
Mute conversations,
Misunderstood intentions
And a silence, unyielding.
A door left ajar
A sturdy heart beating
Relentlessly.
A trap, a maze,
A stringent conscience,
A perpetual torture.
Delirious terror,
Wanton disregard,
A submissive ardour
Misplaced in hell.-
Cold feet,
Eyes afraid to be free,
A burning, a fear,
A feverish need.
Ravenous desire to create.
Feelings flowing away
With dearth of expressions.
Can't reach the source,
Some words are not owned yet.
Befuddled with lack,
Shamelessly trying
To be sublime.
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