Gubbare


Khushiyan alag alag rangon mein aati hain,

Kal hii ek narangi khushi

mujhe apne gaanv ke santaron ki yaad dila gayi,

Aur Lal, meri maa ki maang mein lage uss rang ki,

Jisko aksar main apne haathon mein lekar khela karta tha.

Aur phir aaj hi ek ladki ne mujhse peele aur neele rang ki khushi khareedi,

Maano usse baarish ke baad khile

Uss aasmaan ke rangon ko dekhne ki jaldi thi.
Do rupayi ki yeh khushi,

Bade chhote golon mein aati hai.

Jebon ki mehmaan hai ye,

Mujhe kuch ameer kar, aur gareeb kar jaati hai.

Gar kisi roz

Kismat meherbaan ho, inn jebon ka maalik bana deti hai

toh shayad main bhi Company Park ke saamne khade

Ek bachche se ye phugge khareed lun,

Aur kya pata,

Shayad mai bhi tab inn phuggon ko gubbare bulane lag jaun.
Mai yeh aksar socha karta hun,

Ki helium se bhare woh phugge

Jo udd gaye, woh asal mein jaate kahan hain?

Jab galti se koi dor mere haathon se chhoot jaati hai,

Toh meri nazrein tab tak uska peecha karti hain,

Jab tak woh baadalon ki parchhai ke peechhe chhup nahi jaate,

Ek sukoon sa milta hai unhee dekhne mein,

Maano zehen ki ek khushi,

ko aazaad kar dia ho.
Tumhe sach bataun,

Toh aksar bina galti ke hii iss dor ko chhod deta hun.

Tumhe sach bataun,

Toh Khushiyan bohot hain mere paas,

Par aksar ye khwaish rehti hai,

Ki kaash inn khushiyon se main khush ho pata.

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Going places


There’s a story that needs telling

Like any other legend of time,

There once was a horseman calling

Out to the dusky skylight.
He said he was a traveller

Who craved paths and desolation

When in actual, he was a proud cavalier

Who never wanted a camaraderie or a destination.
But, here he is today, stranded

In an expanse of lonesomeness,

Besides grief, the only thing he befriended

Was apprehension from himself and bitterness.
And so he calls out to the sky to help

Him out of a devil’s trap,

But even the stars couldn’t respond to his yelp

And cries, to provide him a map.
And so he galloped day and night,

On his black as beetle horse,

But soon he ran out of might,

And there was nothing left except remorse.
He died doing what he loved to do,

Which was to run away from places

But, he stopped loving it and got his cue

To return, only it was too late.
I remember this tale from long ago,

And wondered what it meant,

Until I was the one running around, never too slow,

Never a home for postcards to be sent.
And after that,

Going places did not make sense to me,

When every place was a place to go and then to leave.

Mere mauhalle ke sabhi ped

Aajkal khud ko shayar samajhne lage hain,

Har subah mausam ki mehfil mein,

Ek naye si shayari, ek naye se rang mein pirokar sunane lage hain.
Badalti rangon ki iss mehfil mein,

Mehmaan bhi roz badalte hain,

Aaj ek gilehri akhrot ke laalach mein,

Kal ek parinda apne ghosle ke ishq mein, inki shayari ka shikaar ho gaya.
Kal woh naarangi wala apni aashiqui ke kisson se sabko rulata hai

Toh aaj woh halka hara apni harkaton ke charchon se sabko hasata hai,

Sunehri pattiyan toh apni khubsoorti ka raaz batati hain,

Wahin gehre rang ke buudhe dada roz hi kaal ki ek alag kahani sunate hain
Kabhi bhul se apne fankaar ki yaad bhi aa jati hai inhe,

Aur phir uska shukr adaab krne ke liye

Ussi ki hawaon ke sufiyanon par,

Apni hari sunehri pattiyon ko phaila ke jhoom jate hain ye. 
Shyaam apne saath sukoon ki ek thandi leher le aati hai

Jo inn shayaron ke sundar rangon ko shaant kar jaati hai,

Aur tab,inn shayaron ki aawaazein chup ho jaati hain

Aur bolta hain, toh bass inn sabke iss pal mein hone ka ehsaas. 
Issi mein ye jeete hain, aur phir maar diye jaate hain,

Phir bhi, gham ka zikr nahi milta inki shayariyon mein.
Toh din dhalne ke baad,

Jab meri baari aati hai,

Iss khaatirdaari ke Shukraane ke taur par,

Main inhe apni sabse behtareen shayari sunati hun!