Total Pageviews

Tuesday 21 August 2012

Communicating Gift


I 'pick up'
your gift


Your cracked Voice
attentively toned 
to produce
Mein bilkul theek hoon  effect.
I see it
Carefully wrapped 
in twinkling tears.




Miles away
I receive
from the dilapidated balcony
your gift
as dear to me as your silence.

We stop talking.
Probably
We exchange same gifts.

The phone call ends.



Thursday 16 August 2012

Dasht e Imkaan


My blistered feet of Love
tread the dreaded path
again and again....

Again
Love takes me
to a labyrinthine journey
devoid of you...

Again
On the fringes of nothingness
I wait
for no one to come...

Scarlet footprints of heart
My love bleeds...

Sunday 12 August 2012

"The Liberty Tree"


SCENE I
That Tree
commercially painted
once green
dusty
arid
in the corner
of a crowded lane
kept thinking and
thinking of future….

SCENE II
One busy day
The Heritage workers
laboriously
cut the tree down
“A thing from the past
should, at least,
act old”
they kept assuring themselves

SCENE III
The Stump remains
Its roots are out
in the streets now.
They demand Azaadi

SCENE IV
Every moment
roots rage out
A tree grows inside me.
I keep thinking……

SCENE V
Cries

Friday 10 August 2012

Sometimes You Meet Me Often




 Sometimes
When I need you - desperately
And you are not there
I do not weep
Or cry
Or cling to your memories
Or search you
in the abstract projections -
Of my silly heart
No
I do not do all this.
I...
I write it all down
This piercing,weakening
Benumbing disease.
I write it down on the
Page playground of my notebook
I write it down
Sometimes
Sometimes like this!

And
It all soothes down
To words.

Dear,
I am a poet of your absence
When I need you - desperately
I write you down.
And
You meet me
through words
In distant mindscapes
In the heart of hearts
And right there
The poem ends
It ends
Sometimes like this!

Tuesday 7 August 2012

Diasporic Kashmir


Kashmir comes in ripples
As I imagine Dal in Delhi
Like a Phiran
Kashmir engulfs me
In this heat and dust

A distant Azaan
I hear
From Hazratbal
Like hope
I sit unaccompanied
Somewhere in a local mosque
I am a Char Chinari in Delhi

Here
Too afraid I am of these
Scorching roads
For
Kashmir walks barefoot in me