ना चूड़ी, ना पायल, ना घुंँघरू...
पहनती है उसकी यादें..
फिर भी अपनी खनखन के शोर से...
तबाह करती है मेरी रातें...

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Itni udaas kab thi kalaayi mein chudiyan..
Khamosh basi rehti hai judaayi mein chudiyan..

Na-jaane konsa rang pasand hai unko kya pata.
Har rang ki ab pehene lagi hu chudiyan..

Thak kar khanak khanak ke ab intezaar mein
Chup-chap soogayi hai kalaayi mein chudiyan..

Tutkar bikhar gayi tere gunahon ke baazar mein..
Rula gayi hai mujhe yaadon ki ladaayi mein chudiyan..

Tamaam umar ke liye hogayi hai mujhse ruswa...
Gir kar kalaayi se saath chord gayi hain chudiyan..

Samet kar rakha hai har ek kaanch ko .
Mout mohabbat ki magar todigayi hain chudiyan...

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हर ख़्वाब की टहनी पर मेरे
तेरे ख़यालों की कोयल हो,
इस शहर के जैसे नौजवाँ
अपना आने वाला कल हो..

आ पास, तेरे साथ
इक बंधन में बंध जाऊँ,
आ पास, तेरे हाथ
ये कँगन मैं पहनाऊँ...

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बहुत ही मुश्किल था
मेरे लिए वो दिन..
जब मैं मार्केट गई
और दुकानदार से बोली..
"माँ के लिए चूडिय़ां लेनी हैं.."
उस ने पूछा...कैसी..
फैंसी,हल्की, भारी या कोई सेट..?
और मुझे न चाहते हुए भी
उससे यह कहना पड़ा..
"साधारण सी कोई
हल्के रंग की चूडिय़ां"

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My bangles are not to be sold for
breaking as the dawn breaks.

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Dear Nature,
Amongst all the ecosystems that you handle, could you guide me to a solitary shade where I can relinquish my agony? I am fed up of these tumultuous memories. I am sure I'll grow insane if I follow these creaky trees, these branches that reveal the birthmark on her chin, the swirls and curls of her hair, the zigzag rings, the pinches she landed on my chin, the way she nudged me when I lost, the crackling laughter, the grunts, the clinking purse, the glittery bangles, the crimson hips, oh, the limitless torments and distress.

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Bangles
jingling on my wrist
they talk to you
of my love
they speak to you
what I leave unspoken
everytime my hands move
they take your name
jingling on my wrists
urging you to speak to them
as they long for you,
helpless,
bangles

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Not in the bangles,
nor in the bindi on my head
that will leave me,
the moment you are dead.

I will wear you in my words,
So you live,
Even when I don't.

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चूड़ियाँ तो बहुत हैं मेरे पास
पर जो तुम पहनाओ....
उनकी बात ही अलग है
😍😘

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I don't talk about my poems
the way a vendor doesn't
talk about what he sold.
He says, "five bangles for ten rupees,"
and not, "some of these
might never fit you," or
"some of these might
leave you with red scratches."

I sell my poems like
a bangle seller selling bangles
that he made without knowing
how to find hands that fit.
He just makes them because
he knows, they shall fit
the ones who need them.
Just like my poems.

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