किस ओर तू चला है बावरे?

किस ओर तू चला है बावरे?
किस ओर तू उड़ा है बावरे?
हर दिशां में तेरी ही छवि है
और हर छवी में वोह हर शक़्स है ,जिसे तलाश हर वक़्त है
पुकारती है मंजिले जिसे बेहध है
किस ओर तू चला है बावरे?
किस ओर तू उड़ा है बावरे?
कतरा कतरा जीता क्यूं है?
फिर कतरा कतरा मरता क्यूं है?
बिखरे सवालो सा फिर क्यूं है?
उलझे जवाबों सा फिर क्यूं है?
जब खुद में है अस्तितिव तेरा
फिर हर जगह भटकता तू क्यू है?
किस ओर तू चला है बावरे ?
किस ओर तू उड़ा है बावरे?
“सुरवइवर पोईतिस”
एशिका

A question from the future

Text

Oak caress.
Cutlery slides riverside. Tree felling
burns shards of heart
Mirrored, the hidden twists and turns.
Door lock heavy, open plan, and doors hanged.
Lover on the sofa, soft.
Breaking expressions, observing encoded
Stranger.
White emulsion thermostat
Doorknob metal hook rounded,
The tin front demonstration,
Media art.
Close by small conversation
And see-through smiles.
What does it mean, the content and touches
Sound and slides of hand.
Spirits dance outside
The open field of fairy circles and blades
Or meadow brown crop moss
Winged and pointed ears sing church bell haunt
Soul to soul, true kisses and butterfly touches
Rhythmic and drumming
Pulling me in, a cry of tingles inside
She waits for our shadows
Handheld to the singular leaf moving. Whispers of
Lovers entwined.

An adaptation. just fables upon lid roofs
And memorized cables.
Human breath blowing lounge dust, rinsed of magic
And kissing dreams.
Pillowcase awaits falling of hair,
Grips and weight.
Measured in here and now,
Short stares and empty gasps.
A partner glances with open face,
Generous style, important as oxygen
Or inhalation, smokey euphoria
Calming years of fear shaky as another, please.
Arm Bones rattle back and forth
Like a phone alarm blaring,
Another Thank you rears the calm
And jump stop.

Consequences flood. Bodies bodiless –
Kisses diseased, just a graveyard
Bleeding arrangements.
Aura swirling heart senses
And happily ever after.
Meadow fences like barge intensity,
Naturally bowed,
Decor applied by brush or countryside.
Emptiness looms an error collected
Like the cutting of cocaine
Chemical in the cupboard kept quiet.
Addict hell, stripped to tears.
Street value or thick gratitude
Legs and knees.
Temple ride across the room
Selective static a friend
At work, shooting sparks
Gender reverse.
Vodka top tumble
Spin by the window,
Cozy motor flip and lift
Missing another hit.

Fence slit masquerade
Holding a shaded
Back garden ballet.
Bluebell bomb, splashes
Stretched into lengthy sheets.
The meadow palette
A love to remember
Song quiet against this dell.
You talk in lace pirouettes
Hidden in the shadows.
Hide and seek,
High space peek
Empty soak
bleached by an earthy spectrum
Green upon harmonics
Natural. A run of notes
Upon stepped echoes, shuddering
The scene hit and bounce
Heart to heart and
Lingering smile as if that scent
Snuck for minutes.
Back to the wall, red brick horizon.
Your song. Blaring circle
Or a hug under clothing
That holds our tingle
Yearning like pine trees.
What to watch,
Lush and soft on spring sunshine
Warming a damp on bones.
Lips and thighs, whisper-soft
As strokes. Thoughts
Turning to glassy wings
Dancing, hand outstretched
Laughing she comforts
With self-explanations.
Maternal sway, crisp green and brown
Towels of leaf fall
Soaked dusk heat dampening
Shirt, trousers, and drumming
Her love affair mystic
And true, oak gnarled with age
And beauty blessed by its wooded mosaic
Pieces square and loose
Lifted by compositions hidden.
Dreamy belief and lips for me
Waiting at every drift
Pink and parted kissing
Through stillness or tears
A longing cut like debt or tobacco remnants,
Turning away towards a home.
House haunted by someone’s belongings
And a rucksack unsettled
Dirtied by dead pavements solid in a see-through
Cage.

Picture by Thaibaud Faix (Unsplash)

I am

I am meditation on the hills 
I am the sound of the rain
I am the petrichor on a dry day
I am an open window and the view outside
I am a dream that you can’t remember  
I am the phantasmal of the mind

I am the power of the sun
I am the buoyant force of waters
I am the weed that grows underneath
I am within the mantras and sacred chants of the world

I am unconquered and unbridled 
I am a shadow in the dark, invisible in light
I am life and I am death and I am beyond the space
I am an experience of a lifetime

I am a parable
I am a thread that sews the ties
I am everything I want to be
I am Maya, – that reigns supreme on land and sea alike.

Picture by Garidy Sanders (Unsplash)

Steel Yourself

Steel yourself, for the tide will ebb and flow, 
Not to lunar dispositions
But to the gravity of the sorrow in your heart.

Stand steady, for if not they shall sweep you away
Overwhelming, they will hold you close
And drown you in their embrace.

Stay strong, for only will and fortitude
Shall stay these resilient waters
From breaking through and flooding your core.

Be wary, for the tide is certain to swallow you,
And there is little you can do,
But decide to go in pieces or whole.

Picture by Tim Marshall (Unsplash)

कुछ है

कुछ है

जो दबी है हवाओ में कही
जो सर उठाओ तो देख लेना

वही खूँटे पे तंगी लमहों की चादर मिलेगी
कुछ रंगो में एहसासों की नशीली परछाईं मिलेगी
मदहोशी में सनी आख़री साँसे लेता, वो बुदबुदाता बल्ब मिलेगा
अपनी ही परत उतारती, वो आँधियो में हिम्मत रखती दीवार मिलेगी
उस छत से टपकती बूँदों में छिपें फ़रियाद मिलेंगे
अपनी ख़ुश्क बदन को सम्भालता , वो टूटता अलमिराह का पल्ला मिलेगा
मेज़ पर रखी ash tray में सूखे ख़ाक के पत्ते मिलेंगे
पलंग की खोकली होती टांगो में दीमक लगे ढेर होते घर मिलेंगे
उस खिड़की की पकड़ में खनकती काँच की चूड़ियाँ मिलेंगी
बिस्तर के माथे पर कई रंगीन चिपकी एक टक देखती बिंदिया मिलेंगी
नासूर होती दर्द के सैलाब में डूबी वो वरांडा में डालिए के पौधे मिलेंगे

हो सके तो सहेज लेना इन्हें
समय की मार से निराश
सब नज़रें टिकाए अधखुली आँखो से
बेइन्तहा रोशनी के इंतेज़ार में हैं

कब धुँध छटेगी? कब उजाला होगा?

ख़ुद को समेट पाओ तो आ जाना
ख़ुद से लड़ पाओ तो आ जाना
ख़ुद को मिटा पाओ तो आ जाना l

Picture by Kelly Sikkema (Unsplash)

रिश्ते

कुछ रिश्ते कितने अजीब होते हैं,
दूर हो कर भी करीब होते हैं।
भोएं तंज कर लेना,और तुनक जाना,
खूब लड़ना और मिलते ही रो रो के गले लगाना।
कुछ रिश्ते ———

उधड़े हुए वाकयों को सुई से पिरोना,
पेबंद लगा कर संजों रखना,बेरंग कपड़ों की तरह,
खुशबू से उनकी फिर ,ताज़ा वो वाकये होते हैं।
कुछ रिश्ते——-

है रंजिशे जो झुर्रियों की तरह आ ही जाती हैं,
उम्र हो चली तो इन रंजिशो को झुर्रियों की तरह छुपाना,
धो कर आइने में फिर उन्हें निहारना,
फिर याद कर गुजरे वक़्त को कहना,
हट झुर्रियों से भी कोई बूढ़े होते है।
कुछ रिश्ते——

Photo by Everton Vila on Unsplash

WINTER’S parent

‘CRUX’ OF OUR ‘CREDIBILITY CRESCENDO’!

“At times, try as we might, we are hardly ever taken seriously!”
As go voices of a few in a group tackling this issue very assiduously!
Some of these tips here, would guide all along such an arduous pathway
Helping with presence of mind to get led to that ‘path-breaking’ doorway!!
Let’s begin ensuring credibility – through our steady-build-up of ‘assertiveness’
Question-like-statements don’t work – just get caught, with some ‘attentiveness’!
Our Stories influence, create greater impact than “mere reporting”, as they say;
So, let’s come well-prepared; with our homework – on ‘what’ we, on table lay!
Staying informed helps avoid ‘deer-in-headlights-situation’- amid a group
While others’ presentations could well make us feel like a ‘nincompoop’!!
Great are ‘strategized show stoppers’ – like ‘Power-pose’; ‘Dress-sense’
Greater still is our ‘personality-inside-out’; our ‘inner’ magnificence!
Great would it be to have others speak up first; their stories untold
Greater insights pour in as brighter ideas and newer facts unfold!
Grapevine floating around is apparent when we are ‘in the loop’
We’re ‘abreast of what’s happening’; dynamics of the group!
Also, let’s believe in ourselves, a faith no one can ever shake
With our ‘courage’ and grit’ no one can away from us take!
The ‘Respect’ we cherish and seek from all; everyone around
Is more in our heads; “mental constructs” – does this astound?!
We however fail to place ‘respect’ wherever actually ‘due’ from us
As we simply rush to judge, based on our ‘very-first-impression-fuss’!!
So – summing up, ‘self-confidence’ is great; ‘Over-confidence’ does camouflage
Even as we try to begin settling; repositioning ourselves in our ‘Sought-after-entourage’!!

Picture by Amanda Lins (Unplash)

Takbeer

عید تھی ، سوچا عیدی ملےگی
کھ ملی تو تھی، عجیب سی بندوک کی گولی تھی

عید تھی سوچا عید گاہ جاوں گا
کچھ گز زمین تو تھی، پر خاموش سی
کھلا میدان تو تھا
وہ قبرستان تھا

عید تھی سوچا نۓ کپڈے پہنوں گا
کچھ نیا تو تھا
صاف صفید سا
وہ میرا کفن تھا

عید تھی سوچا عید نماز پڈھوں گا
تکبیر تھی پر سجود کا سجدہ نہ تھا
وہ میرا نماز جنازہ تھا

This poem is based on a true event that happened on the day of Eid when a kid walking to offer Eid prayers, was hit by a bullet and died on spot.

The poem starts with the kid expecting some ‘eedi’ (which is a token of love in the form of money given to younger ones on Eid) but gets something strange in return, a bullet in the chest). This kid finds himself in a huge open ground nothing like an eid gah, no hustle and bustle but silence- it was a graveyard (kabristaan).
The kid wanted to wear something new, something clean on eid as it is tradition to do so. He did wear something white and clean-‘ kafan ‘a shroud.
He wanted to to offer eid namaz with every one. They all did pray but no one prostrated( sajdah) but stood and offered it like we do in the namaz janaza ( which is the namaz offered during a funeral).
This kid realised it was his namazi janazah and that he had started his journey for the heavenly abode while his bullet ridden body just lies there.

Picture by Arun Anoop (Unsplash)