तुझे बांध लू अपनी जुल्फ़ों में,
तुझे अपना Ribbon 🎀 बना लू।
तुझे ऐसे रखूं कि खोये नहीं,
किसी और का तू कभी hoye😜 नहीं।।

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मस्ती और लड़ाइयों से sara दिन बिताना, याद
है मुझे हमारा yarana, वो lunch से पहले ही
Lunch चट हो जाना,
Teacher से छुप कर पकेट chips के grup में बट जाना, पकाऊ lecture से बोर हो कर copy को ही chat box बनाना,
Or पानी के बहाने से school ka चक्कर लगाना, क्लास को criket graund बनाना, याद है tujhe preyer
में डाट खाने से बचना, एक चोटी में ribbon और दूसरी को bag के पिछे छुपाना,
बेफिजूल के बातो पर हस हस कर claas
को सर पर उठाना,
और उस class monitor से झगड़ जाना,
कितनी ही बाते है पर muskil है उन् लम्हों को
कुछ पंक्ति में समेट पना

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Cut the ribbon of opportunities,
not only to celebrate,
but also to accelerate...

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काश ये ऐसा हो जाता
जिंदगी भर के लिए
तेरा गुलाम हो जाता

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Knots

He recalled his seventh standard, and the Friday before Friendship Day. Classmates happily swapping bands. He was crestfallen since he had none. The red ribbon, salvaged from yesterday's crafting class, had come to the rescue. Armed with it, he had approached her, to subtly express what he felt. It was the first, the first knot framed in the hall of his memories.
Of crush transformed to friendship...

The second knot he remembered, was the one he cherished briefly. During the first few months of his tussle with earthly realities. A world which the knot embodied every morning till date. When it latched on to his neck, embracing the collar of his shirt. They call it a tie, whilst to him it was an evident symbol.
Of commitment to a regime...

Tonight, he readied his final knots. This time he was already prepared. The nylon rope was sturdy enough when he checked. One end he wore on his neck, like a garland. The other end met the ceiling fan's blade. Before the plunge, he pinned the moment, his final memory. A piece of paper on his desk left as a record.
Of his official obituary...

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In a bouquet of world,
She isn't those beautiful Flowers.
She is that Ribbon, Holding all.

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Cutting, tied ribbon of last birth on each new birth date,
Again tying a new ribbon, leaving souvenir of death,
Loops and cycles of roller coaster continue, they forget,
The time of eternity runs on a track of
The infinity lemniscate ∞.

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Distance
*********
Miles stretch, a ribbon thin and gray,
Between the hearts that long to stay.
A whispered word across the sea,
A silent wish, for you and me.
Though space divides, our spirits meet,
In dreams, a solace bittersweet.

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मेरी उलझनों की हद मत पूछा करो... आधा घन्टा Ribbons को सुलझाने में लग जातें हैं!!

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I found that people
are like a ball of ribbon
tossed at the
bottom of a chest,
the more you pull
at the open end
the more you realize
that you misjudged
it's true form.
Like a tangled
web of possibilities
lying dormant
in a chest,
people are closed
to the world at large,
save for one piece of ribbon
giving them away,
that one thread calling
to be understood.

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