ख़ाक हो जाते हैं
एक ही गंगा में मिल जाएँगे,
ख़ियाबां कितने ही खूबसूरत हों
अलग घर में होंगे
तो हम कहाँ खिल पाएँगे

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Reduced to Ashes, Born from Earth.
Our Body is nothing, But mere 'Dust'.

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जो तेरी खामोशी न समझ सके
वो तेरे शब्दों को क्या ख़ाक समझेंगे
मरने के बाद अपनी अस्थियां भी दे दो इन्हे
उसे भी ये राख समझेंगे

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The vanishing lusters,
Of her dismounting hair,
Her agonizing flusters,
At the sight of a stair.
Those wrinkled eyes,
Gleam with a beady dew,
As her memories slice,
Through the days I grew.

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A joss stick!
She Already knew her fate,
At the end She is mere an ash.
But nevertheless
She burn,
And spread the aroma
of her Indistinct existence.
Isn't our life is analogues to her!

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You left me
Dead & alone
Now I carry
My Ashes
Everywhere..

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My one line life story:
A deep sea diver, occasionally bubbling out harmonious thoughts, gliding deeper and deeper to attain the treasure of tranquility.

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Please,
Don't become my habit...
I can't see myself turning into ashes...
Once again...

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Biologically, men have stable emotions as opposed to the ambivalent feelings churning inside a woman. At a moment, men can only submerge themselves in one of the emotions ranging from anger, elation and sadness. But, when a throbbing newborn baby is handed over to the father for the first time, for a split second, the father is rendered speechless due to the turbulent wave of emotions amassing him, emotions that range from anxiety, fear, sadness, kindness, compassion, love, curiosity, enthusiasm and an eternal euphoria.

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A dire fever renders our taste buds futile. We quiver and groan at the convulsions, burying ourselves in layers and layers of chivalrous blankets while swallowing flavorless foods. The sweetest taste of our realm, is explored by us during those vulnerable hours, a taste so nectarous and exquisite, so sensitive and compassionate, a taste called 'kindness' of our parents.

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