एक शहर पुराना
यादों से भरा हुआ
यादों की डोर खींच लायी है
एक बार और
हर लम्हा याद आया है
वो मोड़, वो हँसी
फिर वही रास्ते
एक बार और
कहीं निशान मिट गए
कहीं अब भी सजावट है
किसी ने पुकारा है
एक बार और
एक खुश लम्हा
यहीं रह गया था
मिल कर हँसे हैं
एक बार और
ईंटों की ढेर
इमारत बनेगी
फिर घर बसेगा
एक बार और
My hand lifts instinctively to strike. The precision comes from years of practice. Every morning at 5 am, it is a ritual that forms an integral part of my daily routine.
The strike is done with closed eyes only guided by the sound of the target. The fearful target whines in an almost melancholic shriek. With practiced ease of many years, my hand strikes. Coming down with ample force designed for the deadly effect. The strike finds the target. The ritual is complete. I successfully hit the snooze button. The clock falls silent. I can sleep a bit more.
Written for 99 Word Story, hosted by Charli Mills of the Carrot Ranch
#99WordStory
Light separates
illuminates them too
The earth and the sky
Shining, sharp and stacked
Waiting to stab, poke and scoop
Confined to the stack
It’s wine or blood
Depends on how it tastes
Each one intoxicating
Depends on how one takes
It’s an addiction
The goblets change
the body or the bottle
the coincidence is strange
Rich feast on poor
Strong on the weak
The toast is for the victor
Never a privilege of the meek
The beast reeks of power
There is no remorseful eye
It sucks to the very last
till the skeleton is dry
It’s not the win
It gloats on the loss
Intoxicated beast
steps on the slushy red sauce
It’s blood or wine
Greedy fangs knows
Wine may be over
The blood still flows
रात की चहल पहल में
तारे ख़ामोश थे
कुछ आवाज़ ना हो जाए
बादल, चुपचाप चल रहे थे
चाँद आधा चमक रहा था
शायद कुछ छुपाए हुए था
वो कदम साथ साथ चल रहे थे
और धड़कन भी
कुछ ना कहा
फिर भी कहानी कह गए
वो गूंजती धड़कन
और वो ख़ामोश तारे
From earth they rise
Some wanted
Some undesired
Some ugly, some nice
Not only the matter of seen
The lush grass
the incessant weed
Both coloured bright green
Both rise together
Nourished by the same sun
Sprouting from the same earth
None worse, none better
Existing for what they are
Unconcerned by likes and dislikes
Expressing their self
None a loser, none a star
Who is the reason?
the seeds that flies
Or the winds that carry
Or is it the season
They grow where they fall
Earth sees no shape
Sun sees no colour
There is space for all
Would they be Blessed or Doomed
Owner of the garden decides
For the planted
And the mushroomed
Let’s turn a new leaf
It need not be green
Any colour you feel
Any shade you want
It’s your tree
It’s your leaf
Falling
I am falling
Faster and heavier
Pulled inwards
Yet surging out
The tear is wider
Ripping open the truth
Layer by layer
the sheaths are parted
the endless fall ends
Static at the bottom
There in the abyss
There appears a light
Clear as crystal
The vision is clear
In a mind placid
There are no sheaths
There is just me
And there lies the truth
क्या दिखता है
क्या सही है
नशा है
उतर जाएगा
My Tales Within