Childhood Days

The chirping of birds,
And the rising sun,
 The wakeup call,
And the crumbled sheet.
These rushing hours,
And devoid of sleep.
Burdened eyes,
And the trudging mind.
A child in me looks for childhood days.

Day too long,
But time runs short.
And the pell-mell of ascending ladder I see.
Long lost trail of impishness,
And the forlorn figure of me.
To the smile,
And the impeccable face.
A child in me looks for childhood days.

Tattered soul,
And the grotesque limbs,
Weary me and the broken wings.
Shade of peace,
And the joy of love,
These blank pages,
And the bottle of ink.
A child in me looks for childhood days.

लम्हे

​​जाने ये कैसे लम्हे हैं, जो थमते हैं ना कटते हैं
वो दिन जो सारे बीत चुके, जो रहते हैं ना मिटते हैं
इक सुर्ख रंग है यादों का, पल-पल जो सामने दिखता है
कुछ चेहरे हैं धुंधले-धुंधले, जो आंखो से ना हटते हैं
जाने ये कैसे लम्हे हैं, जो थमते हैं ना कटते हैं
वो दिन जो सारे बीत चुके, जो रहते हैं ना मिटते हैं

कमरे का अंधेरा भी अब तो, अपना-अपना सा लगता है
इक चेहरे में ही खो जाना, अब तो इक सपना लगता है
दो पहर तो यूं ही बीत चुके, इस काली ठंडी रैना के
जाने ये कैसे लम्हे हैं, जो थमते हैं ना कटते हैं
वो दिन जो सारे बीत चुके, जो रहते हैं ना मिटते हैं

आंखों में चादर पसरी है, इक धुंधले-धुंदले पानी की
जो बहता है ना रुकता है, दिल की इक अजब बेचैनी की,
जाने ये कैसे लम्हे हैं, जो थमते हैं ना कटते हैं
वो दिन जो सारे बीत चुके, जो रहते हैं ना मिटते हैं

कुछ पल को सही बस थम जाये, ये एकल की जो पहरी है
उलझी सी जो गुज़र रही,वो चुभती-चुभती सहरी है
ये बह जाये तो मुनासिब है, ये लम्हे शायद कट जायें
हठ करके दिल में बैठ गये, ना सुनते कुछ ना कहते हैं
जाने ये कैसे लम्हे हैं, जो थमते हैं ना कटते हैं
वो दिन जो सारे बीत चुके, जो रहते हैं ना मिटते हैं

                                   -साहिर‘‘गगन’’

माँ

​एक अरसा हुआ तुझको देखे हुए,
अँखियों में अब भी बस्ती है तू,
रातियों को जगता हूँ, कहीं तो मेरे संग आज भी जगती है तू,
सपने लिए जो जी रहा हूँ अँखियों में,तो तूने ही संजोय होंगे माँ,
गुपचुप खुद से बातें करता, कुछ तो तू भी सुनती होगी,
आज भी याद आती है तेरी,  माँ तुझको भी तो आती होगी।

कलम पकड़ना सीखा ही था, दूर कहीं तू चली गयी,
आज कलम शब्द करता हूँ तो, कभी तो तू भी पढ़ती होगी,
तकिये पर सर रखकर जब मैं अँखियाँ मूँद सो जाता हूँ,
गोद तो माँ तुझको भी अपनी सूनी लगती होगी,
सूख चूका जो अखियन से अब आँसू का जो दरिया था,
दूर हुई जो मझसे तू , एकल में तो रोई होगी,
आज भी याद आती है तेरी, माँ तुझको भी तो आती होगी

जीना अभी तो सीख रहा था, जाने कहाँ तू चली गयी,
नन्ही सी उन आँखों में अपनी यादें छोड़ गयी
कुछ बोला ना पास बुलाया, खुद संग सब कुछ ले चली,
नन्हे से उस बच्चे में प्रशन कितने छोड़ गयी,
जब उलझा तू देखती होगी, जीवन के इस चक्रे में,
उत्तर लेकर तू भी माँ राह तो मेरी तकती होगी,
आज भी याद आती है तेरी, माँ तुझको भी तो आती होगी।

आज भी जीवन के कुछ पन्ने माँ तेरे लिए कोरे रखें हैं,
जाने कब तू आ जाये और स्याही से कुछ लिख दे माँ,
तेरे जीवन में भी तो, वही कुछ पन्ने कोरे हैं,
गुपचुप खुद से बातें करता, कुछ तो तू भी सुनती होगी,
आज भी याद आती है तेरी,  माँ तुझको भी तो होगी।

Chapter 3 The Birth

​Her life began on a melodious note, except for few quibbles, which signify a beautiful daughter in law and mother in law relation, life started to revolve around taking care of her family and  handling daily chores. Life always has been quite simple and uncomplicated, complications were never meant for her. 

Slowly she was acquainting to her new home and its people. Slowly but steadily she was building up new relations , putting her soul into the house and the people dwelling in it. Respecting elders and loving young ones was inculcated in her as taught to every child of our society. We are taught since childhood, giving love brings back love, but what we never realise is that life sometimes push us into situations which are at odds to what we have been learning our entire life. In beginning the ‘Love motto’ worked for her but she was oblivious of the hidden motives behind those smiles.

Things started to change slowly and gradually over a period of time. It Initiated with taking her jewellery which our parents gave and few burnt marks which her mother in law gifted because of her  rage. Her mother in law was a lady of short temper. She was cunning enough and has perfected the art of turning the tables. Tales of her wickedness can be heard from neighbours,  she wished if only our parents would have enquired about her in laws and their family, instead they overlooked everything for the house they own and somewhat established business. They forgot to realise money can buy everything but not  happiness. Happiness is  love reciprocated for care and love we give, happiness which is found in little things we often ignore. But as the deed was done, she had no other option but to live with the circumstances. If things have stopped there, she would have lived her entire life there but things got so sour that even burnt chapati were welcomed with burnt marks on her. Worse was even Harish supported his mother and turned blind eye to all what was happening. She was punished for the fact that even today girls are taught to be submissive since their childhood. Things beginning with pity wishes, ended up facing such circumstances.

She didn’t had heart enough to oppose what was happening with her neither did she told anyone about this, again for the fact girls are taught after marriage they belong to in laws. Little loopholes in our society sometimes bring unbearable wrath in our own lives. Aghast, it was just the beginning of the storm that was yet to come.

Situation began to deteriorate, she was thrashed now and then, sometimes it was from her mother in law and sometimes from my brother in law. It becomes difficult for me to understand at times, how can a woman fail to understand a woman, even after undergoing through similar phases of life.

As the burnt marks and the red eyes kept increasing, the silent storm had begin to build inside her. She bore all this for the family she left behind, for she knew her parents would never be able to fulfil the exquisite demands of her in laws.

For months, she was locked in the room without enough food and water, little corner of that tattered room acted as loo to her. It was then, she felt, it can never get worse than this, and a rebel was slowly being born in  that submissive girl. Limbs crying out of pain and eyes with anger, tears dropping down, was the volcano which atlast erupted. 

Broken limbs rather soul was what was left of her. Nothing left to lose, gave her the strength to break the shackles, which brought back the part of her that she misses the most and gave a new life to her withered soul and soon she was out of her place of confinement, stepping into world of eccentricity, oblivious to what lie on other side. All she knew, she was leaving the worst behind and was resurrecting herself.

दादी

best pencil drawingकुछ ख्वाब हैं अनकहे, कुछ ख्वाइशें अधूरी सी,
दादी बस उस खटिया पर खुद में ही ग़ुम रहती हैं।

ख़ामोशी है उन लबों पर, जो कभी कहानियां कहा करते थे,
आँसू हैं उन आँखों में, जो सपने दिखाया करतीं थी

लोरी तो अब खो ही चुकी है, कमरे के उस कोने में
रतिया कटे है जगते जगते, दिन कटे हैं सोने में

बूढी आँखों भी चुप सी हैं, न कुछ सुनती ना कहती हैं
जिन हाथों ने जीना सीखाया, वही हथेली खाली है

Seclusion

IMG_20160612_153154130_1465725860643_wmIn the hour of  noon when the sun was at its zenith,
Amid his seclusion he was struggling with his thoughts.
Thoughts which would make anyone’s day gloomy,
Thoughts which ponder upon him a sheet of desolation.
Thoughts which unable him to look beyond himself,
Thoughts more dreadful than a ghost.

Amid his seclusion, his shadow being his lone listner,
Shadow which is detachable to him or he is detachable to his shadow.
On the verge of drowning into himself, searching for the ray of new dawn,
Searching for the happiness, the call of hope,
That will Succour him to swim among his choking thoughts.

And there he was sitting all this noon, juggling with the thoughts,
Or rather the thoughts were juggling with him.
Thoughts playing with his countenance, creating a wrath over him,
A sudden plunge of ecstasy ran through him, kindling him to rejoice.
Breaking the shackles of woe,
A sense of tranquility filling his surroundings.

Reinvigorated he stands there, like a warrior who fought the darkness of his thoughts,
Winning a battle that many are still a victim of,
Bleeding with endeavor, a drop of sweat and the wisdom of a revived being were his trophies,
Amid bedlam, with those flickering eyes, he stood with a grin,
Akin to conqueror he stands with a flag of victory over his demons.

सपने

फटे कपड़े, फटे हाल,
तलुओं पर धूप से तपती सड़क की मार
डगर डगर, शहर शहर घूमता,
और तपी सड़क पर नंगे बदन सो जाने वाला वह,
सपने तो होंगे कुछ उसकी मैल से गिजगिजाती आंखों में भी,

आठ पहर भूख की मार,
सूख चुके हैं आॅसू भी अब, बेमतलब हो चुका प्यार
चोखट चोखट, दुत्कार-ओ-ठोकर 
पर अपनी ही धुन में रहा गुजार,
सपने तो होंगे कुछ उसकी मैल से गिजगिजाती आंखों में भी