The Old Apartment

I was in the mood this evening,
the mood for a solitary walk.
So I walked in the breeze before the rains,
to my old apartment not very far.

I got there, I got up,
walked right up to a door too familiar.
I rang the bell once or twice,
and waited for it to open.

But the door was not opened,
neither by someone present,
nor by me from the past,
so I peeked in - in the all absorbing dark.

I stood there, all alone,
and so stood the apartment.
Finally, we wished each other good-luck
and then I walked back to the present.

Whilst walking back,
I saw some memories on the road,
sweet and comforting as they were,
it dawned on me that they were frozen gold.

Part sad, part resolute,
I continued my solitary walk,
I need to focus more on what is, than what's not
to make more memories, with whom I can talk.

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A Candle in the Dark

The white burning candle, Standing in the dark.. on its own, trying to illuminate everything around, albeit the darkness has persistently grown. It is aware that it is alone, while the darkness around it is vast It is devoted to being lit, even as its existence melts fast But is it really a candle? Or is it the flame of hope? That tries to hang on in times of despair, and tries to cling on to that last bit of rope. It keeps burning still, battling the known and the unknown, all hidden in the darkness around. It shrinks in size, with its head held high, still believing that it is glory abound.

The world and fools.

The world speaks, much more than it listens, O how it speaks, on things beyond its mind - a gathering, mostly the enlightened, but a few fools, who care to listen, fools, who still dream, of making the world listen, more than it speaks... of changing it for the better, of taking it beyond the bickering, of not letting it sink in the shallow. O world listen thou shall, O world listen thou must, To these fools with dreams, some broken but all pure, pure as the new dawn they seek. O world give them hope to feed from while all's unjust. Let them fuel from it all, so that when they speak, it matters.

मैं, कल और आज

इस फाल्गुन मास में, उन अदृश्य उँगलियों की गुद-गुदाहट है, जो यादों को भी टटोलती है, लबों को भी। मैं आज में चलता हूँ, और कल में खो जाता हूँ , आज में सोकर मैं कल में जग जाता हूँ। और मुझे दिखता हूँ मैं, दुनिया से अपिरिचित हूँ थोड़ा-सा मैं , स्वयं में ही व्यस्त हूँ थोड़ा-सा मैं। पलटकर भी मैं स्वयं को ही खड़ा पाता हूँ, मैं जो कि अब उसी अनजान दुनिया का हिस्सा हूँ, मैं जो कि थोडा सा खोया हुआ किस्सा हूँ। फिर मैं खुद का हाथ थामकर, दिखलाता हूँ खुद को ये दुनिया खुद की नज़रों से, थोड़ी बातें फिर से सीखता हूँ, जानता हूँ। तभी किसी आवाज़ से आखें खुलती हैं, और मैं सच्चाइयों से घिर जाता हूँ, बीते हुए कल के कल को मैं आज पाता हूँ।

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