कुछ बिखर सी गई थी
कांच के टुकड़ों से
समेटने की भी दरकार नहीं थी
शायद इस तस्वीर का डर था
जो सिमटी हुई आईने में मिलती
शायद बदहवास शायद मरी हुई
मौत का डर मौत पे भारी था
कुछ पुरानी बीती परछाईयां
आंखों का सहारा थी
धूप में उड़ती धूल की तरह
बस एक पल की झलक
दूर बुलाती एक आवाज थी
घर आ जा...
एक पुकार ही काफी होती
अगर कोई घर होता
Philosophers can never have wives
They question and rampage you
Trying to figure out the W’s and H’s
Torment you to the extreme
Without counting the ticks
They corner you with their curiosity
Finds sublimity in repartees
Embalms you with a notoriety
Or some not-good emotion
You feel dejected, lost, and futile.
They summarily reject you
Take their bags and go
Shake off your courage
Or try dashing off
Thinking it's insane to cross you
You cling to them
Like creepers blooming
Trying your best to suffice
Their inner torment
To notice you losing the sanity
Alas you realize it’s vain
You are not a blister
Not a tapeworm or a canker
But cancer or a Capricorn
Sworn into their life to be invisible
They wail at things incomprehensible
And heats up at the slightest trigger
Everything is insane
Swirls around in a whirlwind
Incredulous and undecipherable
But they make the most passionate love
Something that conquers you deep
And makes you need them
To love is to give they say!
Yet, Philosophers can never have wives!
There, you are! cracked open!
A nut, a shell, a pod, or a peanut
Swelling up, you notice
It's not you who is insane
But a hell let lose upon you!
And yet I speak for them
Philosophers can never have wives!
They are not born to share
Every day is a lesson
To lessen the other beside them!
Magic always did exist,
We were just too blind to see it.
Magic has been everywhere,
We were just too busy to look.
And believe my dear,
There's magic in you too,
But you've got to awaken it,
That little fae that is in you.
There's magic in every child,
Every little girl and boy.
That child who daydreams,
And is always lost in thoughts,
That child who seems too carefree,
Too fearless and wild.
There's magic in every artist,
Who represents themselves in art.
Every painter, poet and every writer.
Who has people hooked for them.
There magic in nature around,
Little butterflies and little birds.
Flowers that bathe in sun,
Animal so fearless and carefree.
There's magic in me too,
Not the kind you've seen or read.
But the magic of love,
Of passion, of hope.
Honoured of women, robust and brave,
Whose stories through antiquity, often untold,
Let us make merry their strength and elegance,
In this epic, their attendance we embrace.
With bravery in their hearts, they stride,
Breaking barriers, no bounds to hide,
From ancient times to modern days,
Women blaze trails in uncountable ways.
In moms' love, a guiding light,
Nurturing souls, day and night,
With tender care and never-ending love,
They boost us high, like a gentle dove.
World of various roles we find,
Women's strength and grace intertwined.
They wear many hats, with hearts so vast,
In society's tapestry, their roles steadfast.
As mothers, they support life's tender start,
Nurturing with love, an art and heart.
In the warmth of their embrace, we thrive,
Guiding us through life, helping us survive.
Workplace, they break the mold,
Leaders and modernizers, their stories unfold.
With passion and skill, they pave the way,
Shaping industries come what may.
As daughters, they bring family's legacy,
With care and respect, they bond the sea.
They honor traditions, yet forge ahead,
Matching heritage with dreams they spread.
As friends, they standpoint by our side,
In happiness and tears, they're our pride.
Their companionship, a promise so true,
In life's journey, they see us through.
Society's tapestry, they nap their thread,
Their roles diverse, like colors spread.
Women's strong point, in every role they play,
Enriches our lives, in every way.
She dreams of skies where dreams take flight,
With stars as directors in the darkest night.
Her dreamscape's tapestry, she'll weave,
The hopes and visions her heart believes.
Her dream's theater, she takes the stage,
With talents and desires, she'll engage.
A life's presentation, a dazzling display,
In the spotlight of her dreams, she'll sway.
In a world of code and digital streams,
Women growth like brilliant sunbeams.
They pilot the tech terrain,
With skills and passion, they claim their domain.
Lines of code, like lyrics they write,
Making programs with pure delight.
With precision and logic, they create,
Software that shapes our modern fate.
In algorithms' involved embrace,
Women find patterns, leave a trace.
Their problem-solving minds astound,
In the virtual realms where they are found.
Innovation blooms when all voices chime,
And women enrich the tech paradigm.
Their diverse perspectives, a treasure trove,
In the software world, they truly rove.
In silicon minds and algorithms' song,
Women contribute, they truly belong.
The machine learns from lines of code,
Yet women's stories, in them, it's told.
Let us support, boost, and cheer,
For women's education, let's make it clear,
That Wisdom is their birth right, their due,
In teaching space and beyond, their ideas renew.
विषय - ज़िन्दगी की हकीकत
हकीकत तो यह है कि वक्त बुरा हो या अच्छा अक्सर चलता ही रहता है,
इंसान गरीब हो या अमीर अक्सर हालातों का शिकार बनता ही रहता है ,
बुरे वक्त में तो लोग पत्थर को भी भगवान मान लेते है ,
और अच्छे वक्त में अपनी किस्मत लिखने वाले को ही नज़र-अन्दाज़ कर देते है ;
हकीकत तो यह है की अपने अपने नहीं रहते जब वो गैरो जैसा काम कर जाते है,
और गैर गैर नहीं रहते जब वो अपनो जैसा साथ दे जाते हैं ,
किसी भी रिश्ते की अहमियत दिल की तारो से होती है,
यू ही नहीं एक को दुख हो तो दूसरे के दर्द होती है;
हकीकत तो यह है की दुनिया बहुत रंगीन है पर जिंदगी किसी की भी रंगीन नहीं,
दुनिया में क़ाफ़ियों की सूरत खूबसूरत है पर सीरत किसी की भी खूबसूरत नहीं;
दुनिया हसीनों से भरी है पर दिल किसी का हसीन नहीं,
यहाँ वक़्त देखने के लिए सब घड़ी जरूर लगाते है पर एक-दूसरे के लिए किसी के पास वक्त नहीं;
हकीकत तो यह है कि अपनो को खोने का डर अक्सर रुला देता है ,
समुंदर जैसी आंखों से मोती-जैसे अथ्रु बहा देता है ,
अनमोल होते है प्यार के रिश्ते,
क्योंकि अपने होते हैं जैसे फरिश्ते ;
हकीकत तो यह है की अंजान लोग भी कभी कभी हमारा परिवार बन जाते है ,
क्योंकि अपने से जायदा वो हमें प्यार दे जाते है,
अज़ीब सी होती है अपनेपन की परिभाषा ,
रिश्ते खून से होते हैं और अपनापन वहाँ जहाँ हो अभिलाषा;
हकीकत तो यह है की कांच के टुकड़ों से इतनी चुबन नहीं होती,
जितनी अपनो के नुकीले लफ़्ज़ो से होती है ,
सच कहूँ तो मौत इतनी दर्दनाक नहीं होती,
जितनी दर्दनाक अपनो के पास हो के भी उनसे दूरी होती है ;
हकीकत तो यह है की ज़माना काफी बदल चुका है जनाब,
आज कल तो लोगो की नियत में भी मिलावत है ,
इंसान का अभिमान ही उसकी रुकवत है ,
इस ज़हान में सब सीरत छोड़ अपनी सूरत की करते सजावत है ;
हकीकत तो यह है की सच कहू तो इस दुनिया में लोग हुसन की दौलत पर मरते हैं,
सच्ची मोहब्बत कहाँ पाओगे,
सच्ची सीरत का जमाना ना रहा,
ढूँढते ढूँढते तुम दुनिया को अलविदा कह जाओगे;
हकीकत तो यह है की गैरो से हारो तो गुमान जलता है ,
अपनो से हारो तो सुकून मिलता है,
पर हार कर तो हमेशा कुछ सीखने को मिलता है,
और हमेशा जीत कर इंसान में खमंड भरता है ,
हार जीत की ये कहानी तो पूरी ज़िन्दगी चलती है,
उस भगवान के विचारो के आगे भला किसकी चलती है ,
जिंदगी की कहानी में अपना सिर्फ इतना-सा दस्तूर है ,
कोशिशों के दम पर जिंदगी को रंगीन बनाना जैसा अब अपना एक फितूर है ,
ना-ज़ाने इस्लिया शायद अब
"खुद से हारने लगे है रोज,
एक दिन सब से जीतने के लिए".............
In the shower, I speak
to my bloated bosom
and reprimand its refusal
to fit into the bridal blouse.
Tinkly metal scales
had embellished
the netty design, but
they would not apologize
for detaching without a cue.
I analyzed how
uncostly stitching was at fault.
But my mother
shot a million arrows
in the fragility of my
pampered lard
with a lethal look
that was invented
to massacre my mood,
electrocute my ego
and guillotine my greed.
She called me "FAT"
in a tone that could penalize.
I unclothed a squelched skin
from anguish of that
atrocious bodice. A snakebit
garment from hell fire
that bruised my body
and burnt our
mother-daughter bond.
But the mirror reflects
flattery on my flesh.
What a delight to grope
this ample of adipose!
The belly-bulge is how homely
our cushions should be.
Heaving hips
and thundering thighs
are undisguised veracity
of full-flavoured indulgences.
It was the puffiness of
swollen cheeks
that had sweetened
my lover's eye. And now
his last wish of romance
is to carry this
oversized butterball into
hefty honeymoon horizons
of a bouncy beach.
He must be kidding.
Visit a dark corner!
You will see a brother,
Who got yelled at by his teacher,
Got bullied by his fake friends in school,
They called him a creature,
Which is not very cool.
Visit a dark corner!
You will see a father,
Who got yelled at by his mean boss,
Then at home by his wife,
He knew his life was at a toss,
Could end it with a knife.
Visit a dark corner!
You will see a sister,
Who had a fight with her boyfriend,
It was nothing but a drama,
Even got trolled on social media because of her trend,
Everybody says it was karma.
Visit a dark corner!
You will see a mother,
Who gets beaten by her husband everyday,
Always pushed from stairs,
Next week comes her birthday,
But you know what, nobody cares.
Visit a dark corner!
You will find yourself,
Screaming for help,
Nobody can hear as they are deaf,
Instead they tell you not to chelp,
So that you keep everything to yourself.
ಮುಂಗುರುಳ ಸರಿಸುತ ನಿನ್ನೆದುರು ಬಂದಾಗ
ನನ್ನ ಗಲ್ಲ ಚಿವುಟಿ ನೀ
ನಗೆಯ ನಕ್ಕಾಗ
ತುಟಿಯಂಚಲಿ ಮೂಡಿದಾ ನಾಚಿಕೆ.....
ಕೈ ಬೆರಳ ಹಿಡಿದು ನೀ ಕೊಟ್ಡ
ಕಿರುಕಾಣಿಕೆ
ಎದೆಬಡಿತದ ಏರಿಳಿತವೇ
ಈ ಚುಂಬನ....
ಮೊದಲ ಸ್ಪರ್ಶವೇ ಆ ಆಲಿಂಗನ.....
Peace means a world of truth,
Where benevolence is the norm,
And every child is sheltered.
A world of courage and hope,
A world of sincerity and happiness,
A world of imagination and purity.
Peace is when we wake up with a glad heart,
Engage ourselves is higher pursuits,
And embody our deepest passions.
Peace is our ultimate state of existence,
The one we strive for,
The one we endeavor to merge.
I spent my years loving a poem that ended in ‘listen to the quiet and whisper, “thank you for stopping by”.’
Yet, you whirled in and out of my tempo in such haste,
It cluttered my thoughts only to form a feeble ‘Why?’.
A dreaded lock twists like an ivy in my chest
My haphazard thoughts, too stubborn to form words
Yet, I give it a try.
I have so many things to say that I don’t want to
I go number by the day, can’t figure out if I still want you.
Much so conceited that I’d rather lose you
Than lose you to someone else.
My sighs get louder by the hour
Time is taking a bit too much time, it’s unfair.
I have so many forbidden questions that won’t even make sense to raise.
Neither can I set them ablaze.
From ‘I have many plans except you’ to ‘I have no plans except you’,
Some plans failed
Some pattered down to unwanted puddles down the lane
Speaking of puddles, do you remember that unlit night in the rain?
Seven minutes of unleashed psyche played as we headed home…
It was intoxicatingly insane
I could recognize you anywhere in a crowd.
A pity I can’t escape of you that adorable laugh
Do you still laugh that sweet laugh?
You know, the part where the corners of your mouth curl up
And tint you a blush?
I guess you do
You probably do…
I hope you do.
Is this grief worth a vape?
No harm done, just an attempt to forget
Erase you just for one night, to relish in your false existence until the gray subsides.
Alas,
I’m too much of a coward to pretend being high when the low feels like rock bottom
We held on to a Koalemos past in trying times
And let go of the future like Pandora
Did we just not work enough, or were we never meant to work together?
I knew you and I loved you.
Yet it took us to stand strangers for me to write a memory of you
Maybe someday you’ll stumble upon it.
Maybe you’ll like it.
Maybe you're not even worth it…
‘R u?’
I've been the victim of your worst crimes
Fallin in love and then crossing the lines
The truth unfolds and I lose my hope
And I see heartache for the first time
You are in every page in my story
From headnotes till the ink gets blurry
And sit silently in your archives
So truthfully you told the lies
Pushed me through hell in the name of trying
Salt water that my eyes I can't hold
Still not giving you up cause it's like giving up on life
And I feel heartache for the first time
You are in every page in my story
From headnotes till the ink gets blurry
And sit silently in your archives
From dreams colours in pastel
To sitting in a haunted Castle
Filled with the memories of us
Never thought love hurts as much it does
Living in misery Is my new pastime
You're in my story in almost every line
And i silently sit in your archives
It had donations of nature,
But couldn’t feed its hungering desire.
It overlooked radiant sun rays,
Got charmed by a gold cage for its glaze.
But forgot where it had been made,
Should be eventually laid.
NO PAIN BEING AN WOMEN
-RAJISRINIVASAN
She was on her periods -bleeding red
Being stronger with her cramps and pain
She was about to write her homework
Returning tired from her school to home
She was raped with her pain and bleeding
No wonder -she died .
She is first to wake up
But last to eat her dinner ,
She never complained about her workloads,
And also she was never understood ,
She had a abundant love for the family
But she was treated has a -"unpaid maid".
She was nude on streets -by groups of men's
Only because of her caste ?
We human bleed in the same colour
Why no changes in that ?
No women came in mind while doing that sin
Where is the humanity .?
ಇರಬೇಕು ನೀ ಇರಬೇಕು ನೀ ಎಲೆ ಮರುಳು ಪ್ರಾಣಿ
ಹುಚ್ಚೆದ್ದು ಪಥ ಹಿಡಿದು ಬಳಿ ಸುಳಿವು ತನಕ
ದಿನದಿನವು ಬೇಗೆದ್ದು ಒಗ್ಗದರ ಬಳಿ ಸರಿದು
ಬೇಡಿ ಓಲೈಸಿ ಅದನು
ಬೇಕದ್ದು ಬೇಡದ್ದು ಯಾವುದದು ಯಾವುದದು
ಎಂಬೆಲ್ಲ ತಿಳುವಳಿಕೆ ಬಿದ್ದು
ಏತಕ್ಕೆ ಮಾಡುತಿಹೆ ಏನನ್ನು ಗಳಿಸುತಿಹೆ
ಕೂಗಾಡಿ ಬಾಯಾರಿಕೆ
ಇಂತೆಷ್ಟು ಈ ಪಯಣ ಎಲ್ಲಿಹುದೊ ಕಡೆ ಸದನ
ಬೇಸತ್ತೆ ಅರಸಿ ಅದನ
ಮನಮೋಹಕ ಈ ಕನಕ ವೈಢೂರ್ಯ ಸರ ಪದಕ
ಬಚ್ಚಿಟ್ಟು ಪಡಲಾರೆ ಕಳೆದು ಮರುಕ
ಸೋತು ಸುಣ್ಣಾದೆನೋ ಏನೆಂಬೆ ಈ ಬದುಕು
ದಯೆತೋರಿ ಸಾಗುಹಾಕೆಂತೆಂಬ ತನಕ
ಇರಬೇಕು ನೀ.....
ಪ್ರಗಲ್ಭ. ಆರ್. ಎಸ್.
And more and more and more.
It has been a week.
It has been neither
little scuffles in the corner,
Doodling petty, here and there
Of dearth minutely felt, under-skin only
It has been a week of pettiness,
Of giving your name to the pushing of the bed
Or getting the last speck,
It has been a week, barely.
Of bird-warble fault-finding,
Pecking incessantly at window putty or varnished door,
Open and close throughout the day,
Yes, it has been a week of woodpecker.
Seven days, six pills gone.
And here the time begins,
It has been a week of more and less.
A week of telling time in your gait,
And the side of the bed that speaks better.
From curtains to switchboards,
This is not distance.
But it surely has been a week, almost exact
But for a little spillage
It has been a week of blindness,
To your pond flutter and nest-building,
To stick-breaking and ravage,
“Go through, go through, go out”
Rising death counts and curves, endless.
Before and after this aspect of a thunderstorm-
It has been neither,
In anger, I painted
stick armed kid, dead in ditch, with dog hair in its mouth.
(In memory of Alan Kurdi, the two-year-old child who tragically became a poignant victim of the Syrian refugee crisis)
The tender lips of the warm black ocean
Kissed my blue feet in a rocking motion,
My puny brine-soaked body
Rested on the banks of sands so shabby.
The mighty turbid salt waters
Smelt of grease and fire crackers,
Roaring fireworks clouded the sky,
Tearing homes, blinded by battle cry.
The wet groaning sea breeze in rage,
Howled a language familiar but strange,
The shrill wails of my brothers and sisters,
Running amok, being called the resistors.
That night was starry, calm, and bright,
But I winced in pain, hunger, and fright,
Mamma covered my dusty dry lips,
Dismayed by shadows in guns and clips.
"No little one, don't be alarmed,
The war will end and we'll be unharmed,"
Mamma nursed me to a good night's sleep,
To my last one, the one so deep.
Guns and missiles left me to smother,
With rivers of red and a crying mother,
Walls around rumbled and crumbled to graves,
But a gush of wind took me beyond the waves.
The tides tossed my stock-still body so silly,
Tired, I drowned down the ocean's belly,
It halted, and there was no more turmoil,
I woke up, it no more did smell like soil.
Fountains of honey, orchards of berries,
With no more thoughts of hunger and worries,
Cheer and joy-filled pastures and meadows,
No gates, no hate, no tears of widows.
Forever stays this guarantee, this glee,
For here we blend, there's nothing to mend,
Warheads decide my days no more,
For I am Alan, the sleeping boy, here on.
Why did you water me again?
While they left my soul to wither,
Stepped on me every day with betrayal,
I wish I had been plucked out of the ground forever.
But why did you water me?
I still bear the fruits of happiness.
I tried to blossom, as I always do.
But they tried to bury me deep within,
With their hurtful words.
But why did you water me?
Gradually, I felt a change.
I noticed I had grown insecurity thorns,
Shutting me down completely as I quiver,
Then you came, my darling, as rain.
Now tell me, will you always be there?
To quench my thirst with your love like never before.
Holding broken pieces of me, I sat
on my balcony a summer arvo
pondering about love and life
wondering where had I gone wrong
and then a cuckoo came calling.
She made herself home, confident
sure of herself, unlike me.
and then she sang a song,
a melody that pierced my heart
She took me back in time
when my hopes were young
when my dreams were blinding
when loving myself came easy.
Back to the home she flew me
the one that still stands, just empty
where love meant mom’s food
where tears were wiped quickly
where kisses healed scrapped knees.
To the fields, where her kin sang to me
on cool evenings when I wove dreams.
She looked at me, holding my stare,
striking a final tune, as if urging me
to move ahead and still look back
to still dream, to still believe
and to find in myself, the little me,
who believed a kiss healed.
When was it, the facade of mascara you wear everyday like a new dawn, became your actual face?
Do you remember?
When was it, the pitch-dark kohl you outline your lost eyes in, somewhat like an eclipse, fell weak to the cancerous dark circles?
Do you remember?
When was it, the love you've always had for blue, as if a mermaid afloat the oceans, could no more live up to the blunt bruises?
Do you remember?
When was it, the tooth fairies you'd desperately hoped to be true, as if living off Aesop, failed at being, to the flesh-digging fangs?
Do you remember?
When was it, the cliche fragrance of ruby red roses you'd pined for every adolescent afternoon, drowned in the stinking inebriated breath of bloody hands crawling inexplicable lengths and depths of your measured skin?
Do you remember?
You'd say, every time he wore a new face, a different one from the last one, to the piling heap of rotting flesh, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time he was inside you, living an entire existence elsewhere, reciting letters to an address unfamiliar, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his lightning struck thunders down your wuthering spine and stormed entrails trembling from the rains of yesterday, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his crippled crumbled vanity pinned the limbs of the questions living in your wrinkles, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his intoxicated eyes and rogue desires crossed paths with your humble sobriety, ripping it as if cut open, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
Who we thought were men, carry corpses of women like they were meat, as their brittle penises play hide and seek.
Who we thought were men, pluck bones of men like they were toothpicks, as the lynched vaginas and slaughtered breasts choke.
Do the dead smile though?
आई गेली
आभाळ फाटलं
प्रत्येक थेंबाचं मन दाटलं
आई गेली
लांबल्या सावल्या
उदास उदासशा रेंगाळत राहिल्या
आई गेली
धूसर वाटा
उरात सतत सलणारा काटा
आई गेली
गेली रया
आटली सायीसारखी माया
आई गेली
खूप सोसून
काळजाचा तुकडाच कापून घेऊन
आई गेली
विरला वर्ख
गिळला दाहक दु:खाचा अर्क
आई गेली
विश्व शांत
मनात मात्र जन्मकळांचा आकांत
भाजला घसा
जळलं मन
पेशीपेशीतून आक्रंदन
आई गेली
आता मागू काय?
कुठे शोधू हक्काचे पाय?
आई गेली
उलटली वर्षं
मागे उरला ... फक्त स्पर्श!