वक़्त क्या हुआ है

अरे सुनो
बताओ तो
वक़्त क्या हुआ है
क्या हम इसे जियें
ये कोई माँ की दुआ है

अरे ये तो रो रहा है
सड़क के किनारे
क्यों खो रहा है
इसे तो खुश होना चाहिए
ये आज़ाद है
पर इसके
कई भाग हैं
कुछ भाग तो भूखे भी हैं
कुछ में दर्द भरा है
हाँ कुछ में है खुशहाली
पर सभी चाहते हैं हरयाली
आखिर ये कैसी छटा है
वक़्त की ये कैसी खता है

अब हमें कोई रोता अच्छा नहीं लगता
अरे वक़्त तू नहीं है
एक अच्छा प्रवक्ता
अच्छा वक्ता  बनना है
तो पहले बनो अच्छा श्रोता
सदियों से
यही तो है होता
सुनो उनकी
जो तुम्हे चलाते हैं
झूठे वादे करते हैं
झूठी कसमें कहते हैं

अरे तुम रट क्यों हो
थोड़ी रौशनी ही तो कम है
बाज़ार में देखो
कितने रंग हैं
क्या??
तुम वो रंग पा नहीं सकते
इतने शोर में
कुछ गा नहीं सकते
अरे छोड़ो
गाने में क्या रखा है
उस दुकान में देखो
वहाँ एक टी.वी रखा है
उसमें तो सब दिखता है
वो दुनिया वो गाने
सब बिकता है

हाँ तुम उसे खरीद नहीं सकते
पर हाँ
तुम देख सकते हो
लेकिन रुको
उसे ज़्यादा देर मत देखना
वो जेल भी भिजवा सकते हैं
क्यूंकि उसे कहते हैं घूरना
फिर अगर कल को कोई
आई गयी हो गयी
तो देखो सब क्या कहेंगे
कहेंगे तुम चोर हो
अरे
तुम्हें गुलाम कर लेंगे

अरे अरे
रो क्यों रहे हो
देखो वो कुछ लोग आ रहे हैं
जानते हो वो कौन हैं?
वो तुम्हारे लिए ही आ रहे हैं
इन्हें मिलें हैं
ढेरो पैसे
ये तुम्हारी
किस्मत बदलेंगे
देखो कैसे
ये तुम्हें पढ़ाएंगे लिखाएँगे
ये तुम्हें
एक अच्छा वक़्त बनाएंगे
कल ये तुम्हें काम भी देंगे
देखो
अब ये तुमको रंग देंगे

पर ये क्या
ये तो कहीं और जा रहे हैं
बंद शीशों के पीछे
ये क्या छुपा रहे हैं
रुको
तुम इनसे भीख नहीं मांग सकते
ये ही हैं वो
जो देते हैं तुम्हें धोखे
इन्होने तुम्हें
कुछ और बनाना था
पर क्या करें जनाब
उन्हें राष्ट्र संवारो सम्मलेन
में जो जाना था

पर तुम दिल छोटा मत करो
देखो तुम कुछ भी करो
बस तुम्हें रोना नहीं है
तुम्हें इन राहों पर
खोना नहीं है
अच्छा एक काम करो
ये लो कुछ रुपिये
कुछ काम करो
भीख माँगना अच्छी बात नहीं
अब तुम कुछ आराम करो

कल सुबह
बाजार में निकल जाना
वहीँ  होता है
बड़े लोगों का
आना जाना
वहीँ जा कर कुछ देखना
कुछ काम माँगना
कुछ पूछना

ऐसा ना हो
की कल तुम भी सड़क पर हो
देखो मैंने कुछ रूपए दिए हैं
अब तुम सड़क पर मत सो

अरे ये क्या
तुम ज़रूर कुछ गलत खरीदोगे
मेरे मेहनत के पैसे को
नशे में खो दोगे
नहीं, वापिस करो ये पैसा
तुम्हारा वक़्त ही है ऐसा
मैं कुछ नहीं कर सकता
अरे मई नहीं हूँ
कोई प्रवक्ता
जाओ
मेरा वक़्त जाया मत करो
मुझे कहीं जाना है
ये सब नाटक
यहां मत करो

अरे सुनो
बताओ तो
वक़्त क्या हुआ है
क्या हम इसे जियें
ये कोई माँ की दुआ है

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

खुशियाँ भी अजीब होती हैं

खुशियाँ भी अजीब होती हैं

कभी इतने करीब

कभी इतना दूर होती हैं

कभी अचानक

खूब सज कर

घर पर आती हैं

कभी न जाने क्यों 

दर्द भरे गीत गाती हैं

कभी चहक कर देखती हैं

वो आँखों में चमक लिए

कभी अचानक तरसती हैं

जाने क्या गम लिए

खुशियाँ भी अजीब होती हैं

कभी इतने करीब

कभी इतना दूर होती हैं

कभी पूछती हैं हमसे

क्या हाल जनाब

सब सही से?

कभी यूँ गले लगाती हैं

जैसे ना मिले हों

जाने कब से

पर कभी वो हमारा 

पता भूल जाती हैं

कभी कभी हमें

वो बहुत याद आती हैं

खुशियाँ भी अजीब होती हैं

कभी इतने करीब

कभी इतना दूर होती हैं

कभी नज़र चुराकर

हमसे कुछ छुपाती हैं

कभी जाने क्या सोच कर

यूँ पास चली आती हैं

कभी तो बटुए में

अचानक घुस जाती हैं

कभी दिल में यूँ अचानक

जाने क्या गुनगुनाती हैं

और कभी अचानक 

वो ओझल सी हो जाती हैं

लाख उन्हें पुकारो

फिर भी ना आती हैं

खुशियाँ भी अजीब होती हैं

कभी इतने करीब

कभी इतना दूर होती हैं

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

लहरों के हिलोंरों में

लहरों के हिलोंरों में
खेलती सी वो
कभी मुस्कुराती देखकर
उस भीगे से चाँद को
ओस की बूँदें
मानो बह सी रही थीं
उसके बदन पे
जैसे कह रही थीं
की आओ थोड़ा और करीब
कुछ और पास
ज़िन्दगी में मिले हैं
ये लम्हे कुछ ख़ास


लहरों के हिलोंरों में
खेलती सी वो
आँखों में जैसे
कोई चमक सी थी
अधूरी सी प्यास
मानो दमक रही थी
हवा भी बह रही थी
उसके मिलन में
जैसे उसे उड़ना हो
नीले गगन में

लहरों के हिलोंरों में
खेलती सी वो
ज़ुल्फ़ों में उसके
कुछ नशा सा था
धुंधला सा आस्मां
खुला सा था
वो धीमे से हंस रही हो जैसे
मन ही मन हमसे
कुछ कह रही हो जैसे
नहीं जानते थे
क्या चाहती थी वो
उन भीगे पलों में
क्यों खिलखिलाती  थी वो
पर आज भी करते हैं याद
उन लम्हों को
लहरों के हिलोंरों में
खेलती सी वो

Mystical Wanderer

कुछ पलों के अपने

हाँ देखे मैंने

वो दौड़ते अरमान

वो भीगे सपने

वो दिल दहला देने वाले

कुछ पलों के अपने

दरिया में डूबती नाव

रेत पे दौड़ते सांप

जंगल की अँधेरी raat

समुन्दर का वो खौफ

हाँ देखे हैं मैंने 

वो दौड़ते अरमान

वो मुस्कुराते चीते

मौत को खींचे

वो बादल की आवाज़

वो बारिश जैसे तेज़ाब

सागर में भभकती आग

वो आँखों में सैलाब

रातों में शबाब

हाँ देखे हैं मैंने

वो दौड़ते अरमान

गुनगुनाते ततैये

उस दर्द को  लिए

मौत से बत्तर ज़िन्दगी

खोई राहें और आवारगी

वो दर्द भरी क़रर्राह

वो जबरन निकाह

खोई सी एक निगाह

हाँ देखे मैंने

वो दौड़ते अरमान

जिस्म पे वो लाल निशाँ

कानों को चीरते बयान

वो जिस्म की नुमाइश

डूबती सी ख्वाहिश

पानी से फूली लाश

आँखों में काश

जैसे न बुझी हो - कोई प्यास

 हाँ देखे मैंने

वो दौड़ते अरमान

वो भीगे सपने

वो दिल देखला देने वाले

कुछ पलों के अपने

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

Gyres of our Entity

Gyres of our entity – includes those endless lives and deaths and their atrocities. Some celebrate life, some cry over those that die and in between enters all those tears and smiles. Some worry over their careers while other send their time seemingly precious to burials. Is it all worth it after all? all that morality – the rise and fall?

Yeah, i saw those mountains, cliffs and water falls. Nature, cities – their mounts and falls. Some were charming – i tell you. Patient, beautiful and aah that spectacular view. There were some rivers – flowing right through their hearts. There were strange roads built upon them those loaded carts. And it was bliss to follow some unknown lanes , far off from boring mundane. I ask – till when? Those that were once beautiful are no more – the same. Yeah those floods and droughts –are those here i allowed? ‘Life goes on they say’ , what halts us here – if I may?

I saw that lady once. She was passionate riding upon that wave. Wild and free her spirit was – if given her way. She could have stopped hearts from beating. To see her - world was fleeting. Alas! She had that dark notch inside. she wanted to remain always on a ride. Land was not her domain. Domesticity – a further ride. Rootlessness was what she loved – out of that world – and its ugly sight. But she was beautiful – I must say. She had her wish in any way.

This takes me to that club one night - High up with a moon in sight. There were glasses all around – all darkened from inside. One could have looked outside never inside. And that was its charm  - that visionary plight. It worked in the secrecy of fecund moments – for rest of the world – it was yet again a boring night. The club had smokes of illusions – all seemed fine from that height – the world and its hazy

Ever been to a dentist – a girl went there once. She was sitting in a waiting room – reading those magazines so bright. Alas!! There was a bitter view – the naked ladies with their gaudy crew. Adults, grownups everywhere – those mounts – all stare. But she hated the ugly sight. She hated it all – that woman beside, those powders and creams, those lusty streams. More she noticed – more was her plight. She didn’t want that world so bright.

The same girl one night went upon top of a mountain. There was the key – to kill all her strain. She looked below upon that stream so low. She looked above upon that carnal dove. she knew she would have her way – to jump down was her only way. There she lost a part of herself. There from that cliff- jumped that self. And she smiled on the top then. There she was – a hollowed stem.

Once out of many births – i was a man. Battles and fights were my love – like every man back then. I wanted to kill and plunder and win it all. when at wars , i had no notions of ethical trolls. I wanted that lady riding upon those waves. Aah! To imagine her – my heart still raves.  Just a glimpse and i had my adrenal rushing through many cliffs – there inside her – lied my bliss. I wanted to consume her –and have her all. to gulp her down my throat – was the call. But there from a cliff she died – there my wish – jumped down – right beside. But i was strong – i must say – i forgot her all – there that day.

Amidst many places – sky is my favourite sight. It has that freedom and that free side. But at times i feel it all closed – like that lid upon a hollow bottle.  And sky seems fake – and all its notions. There is a word in man’s dictionary called – horizon. Funny where sea and sky meet then? Is it the beginning of that rainbow i saw one day? Or maybe horizon was towards its end. But i am sure – rainbow is a scientific phenomenon. The magic of sun and water vapours. Aah to see it in real – my head spurs. But why didn’t i touch it then - Sky and that horizon? Maybe it was all a cipher – the view and my spur. But it was spectacular – i must say – world, word, real and its filler.

Riding upon the waves of few rivers – i reached that sea in lee. A steam boat it was i guess – a wooden clog on spree. I was lying towards the edge – feeling those waves dash by me. a dying sun i saw there – with fishermen calling home waving to me. i waved them back – those silhouettes in that sea – rugged oars with their poor clothes – they were tired but free? There were tigers too – out there somewhere amidst mangroves. But i saw none – but the marks of their paws. Like those men in sea and in shadows. But the place seemed so unreal to me with its sway –such beauty with peace – if i may say.

I at times crave to go back to semiotic – or may be right now i am in one. aah the peace imagined to be taken care by that loving hand . to be fed and loved without any effort – to be always in milk without any dirt. There is love and music and yes some boundaries – they have their limitations – the ovaries. Like i can twist and turn inside these walls. I can even listen to those external calls. I love it all at times. But everything has its limit – these times. At times i feel like coming out. Anyhow i have to be out. Tomorrow is the date of operation. Bubye my walls – you i shun. But it feels good to stay inside – this love and care and the mild ride. But outside is fun – if i may saw – a this heart and its empty sway.

Once on a hilly road i saw a vixen. Right ahead of our car – it was on a run. Her eyes were blazing – in that night. Aah such mystery in that sight. I had heard stories of myths beside fires. I so wanted to own her. Her eyes were a killer – this i must say. Outshoned at moon – was their ray. She ran and hid inside that forest. I thought it was some hallucinatory dust. But she out came she – in that night. Aah that forest – and those eyes. It was a lucky sight – i must say, after all it was all a game.

Far off on one such cold night – there on hills and snow – that ride. Up and down glide they so nice. There with giggles there she wriggles. It is one happy sight – that love and sensations – no more plight. Beside each other they snuggle to chat. She reads a poem on rat. They dance on those rhythms of desires – she in white – beside those fires. And then they run towards that sea- In some other season, in some other country. Colourful lanterns with lights – they see them all – in a boat beside. The boat lies on a shore with none in sight. They talk then laugh at a rainy ride. There besides a raging sea – they dance and sing – facing that sea on three sides and a forest completing that ring. It is indeed that girl’s plan – i should forsay – to be happy anyhow in any way.

 Once i saw a handsome man. Aah the skin so raw like stem. His eyes had that glitter inside. he wore a smile – at all times. Upon his shirt were neat lines – yelling his masculinity and intellect behind. He had a sense of humour too - To make me laugh – to make me woo.  He had a green band around his wrist. In our walks in that fog he removed that mist. He loved to talk most of the times. He was charming initially but then changed those times. He wanted to keep me all to himself – he wanted to gulp me down – deep inside my shell. I wanted to save crush for better times. To give it all to him when in some other rhymes. But i wanted to keep some for myself too. He was not the only one i wanted to woo.  I wanted those wild forests and words and many such nouns. So him i denied – him i still denounce. I pity that other girl he once had – to imagine she jumped from that cliff for that lad. But he was a keeper – i must say. He loved me in atleast in some way.

So the gyres of our entity has these strange tales – they make one feel that picture rail. And one travels to new places all the times. Each compartment has new rhymes. The treks are strange too. Metallic and interconnected they go. I pity those tracks right below my wheel. I keep speeding but they remain in the same zeal. There are fixed and don’t go anywhere. They just help me reach from somewhere to somewhere. But being those tracks i have realized one thing – from beginning to end – i am one thing. I begin myself and i do hte ending. I am on move i remain standing. This is indeed a strange gyre – if i may say. It keeps on moving, it pulls me to stay.

written by - Mystical Wanderer

desperate meditations

So the anxiety at times takes you to those moods where you can’t tolerate your own time or surrounding. You tend to get irritated with everything. Each of those persons you so love otherwise tend to become your allies ready to do spells your already charcoaled mind. You tend to ignore life and all its colors. Dragging your day you finally manage to begin with your everyday persuels but nothing is what that gets produced in such mindset.

So off you go with those drags of social ignorance and give yourself those few minutes of smoggy trance. There in the fading day you see many things on dance – the life around with all of its intensities – those people all caught in their world and its propensities and yes  yourself as a critique of all. You are both a participant and observer and there with that double identity you give those moments several civilizations of reflections.

And you reach that preaching of a branch of Buddhism which claims that there is nothing like matter outside and everything we see is a product of our own imagination. And yet another branch which says that even nothing is something so there is a thing called matter which is present outside and with which we get created. Rather attachment with this very matter keeps us all engages in those endless cycles of life and death. And it is from that matter that we have to save the other bred. Hence enter all those terms of bodhisattva, arahata and that enlightened budhdha.

I somehow can identify with both of these aspects. I mean i was in a dark mood because of which world attained its red shade with all of its hideousness. And it is also the world the world in real which was doing certain actions to make me more and more repulsive every moment. Was it all real or just a thought of mah head? Weren’t those happenings and things real that were causing those reactions. And equally real were my pre – notions and moods that were causing those things to happen. Atleast the intensity was because of my own lack of tolerance.

Like those accidents where at times a person is responsible for it with his careless drive or drunk mind state but also those times when one has nothing to do in destiny’s sway. A child meets his father at night, plays with him and goes off to sleep in his arms. The father never wakes up again. Isn’t it an external force that changes the child’s life altogether and also the way he perceives things. Or such happenings are also a set of shadows – a theatre of which we are both actors as well as the audience?

So Galileo one day observed that there is no higher authority like god to have anything to do with the creation of earth. That man and earth being at the center of universe is a false statement and we nothing but some moving particles upon a large round ball and there are infinite similar balls in this large universe. Is that too a product of galileo’s imagination? What is the base of science, religion, geography if there is nothing outside but a shadow of our mind?

There is another philosophy which talks about a larger conscience where along with our distinctive individual consciousness there is a larger conscience which connects us to that divine at large. Where each of our cells, both external and internal matter keeps on getting created and destroyed and cosmos remains the same – no energy lost . no energy gained. Only that time changes and that tooin mental games. Somehow everything seems both sterile and mundane then.

Imagine being a part of such scientific cycle where some grams of mud, few vapours of wind, some ambers of fire and some waves one day decide to get together in some vacuome place and create you in a new phase. All those things request energy to join them and there gets birth you with some family’s stem. You keep struggling with numerous notions – all products of time and your mind. Those particles keep on playing the game and showcasing your model to that world outside. But then they get bored. or maybe they no more want to remain together all bored. despite of nany shifts in which some element or the other worked – they are now tired and bored. so they get separated to create something new at some other shore. And there lie you no more .

Everything gets finished- those anxieties those chores .the people you so wanted to please – the people would be missed no more. Those things you wanted to own – they still lie but you are no more. But your photographs remain – so do your memories – till your next generation or even next if they are not always in hurry. And there those elements had created new mazes – new perceptions to worry. Without giving any explanation to their creations – why they lived together why to separate – they are in hurry. Why they lived together in the first hand if always they have so much to worry.

So here i sit with a mind further complicated with those notions and equations. What is life or whether death is better in some other nation. Should i say that life is same – no matter where you live – its always the same game. Some situations, some expressions – all cause of some creations – without expectations. All are mere experiments – those living and those in head. All are strange equations of permutation and combination. All even those at war – those nations.

So why worry?  Why live at the first place? or why die if this is what is not some pre – fixed fate. Complexities are after all – yet some other creations of imagination. They get real in matter once they gerab our fascination. So now that i know  that i basically know nothing i think i can begin my day. There is bliss in this dying sun’s ray.

 Written by - Mystical Wanderer

आज भी तो एक दिन ही है

ज़िन्दगी में कुछ ख्वाहिशें न हों
तो ज़िन्दगी ज़िन्दगी नहीं रहती
कुछ सपने कुछ अरमान न हों
तो मुस्कुराने की वजह नहीं रहती
थोड़ा प्यार तो ज़रूरी है
और थोड़ा गुस्सा भी
अरे उतराव चढ़ाव न हों
तो राहें राहें नहीं रहतीं
कौन चाहता है
एक बेजान सी ज़िन्दगी जीना
हर रोज़ वही काम
वो ही खाना पीना
ज़िन्दगी तो जीने का नाम है
सिर्फ सांस लेना नहीं होता है जीना
अरे सांस तो वो जानवर भी लेते हैं
और फिर पेड़ों का भी क्या कहना
सब खाते पीते आराम करते हैं
आखिर किसको कहते हैं जीना?

'सबसे बना कर रखो
अरे दुनिया में ही है जीना'
आखिर तुम कैसे ज़िंदा रह सकते हो
इस दुनिया में मौत को कहते हैं जीना
'अब उठो
अब ये करो
अब उसके पास जाओ
अब उसके काम करो'
अरे वो उठ गए
उनका खाना कौन बनाएगा
अभी व्यापार है
सबके लिए पैसा कौन लाएगा
हाँ एक दिन हम जिएंगे
जब सब काम कर लेंगे
तब हम सब छोड़ देंगे
तब हम अपनी सुनेंगे

पर आज आज वो दिन नहीं
आज वो वार है
जब उसका जन्म हुआ
जब हमे किसी से प्यार है
आज हमे उसके घर जाना है
मौत भी तो एक त्यौहार है
सब आएंगे उसकी मौत पर
सालों से नहीं मिले
आखिर आज ही वो वार है
वर्ना रिश्तेदारी कैसे निभेगी
मौत के बाद का सवाल है
'हम किसी के मरने पर नहीं जायेंगें
तो कोई हमारी मौत पर कैसे आएगा'
-ये सवाल है
हाँ एक दिन हम जिएंगे
जब सब काम कर लेंगे
तब हम सब छोड़ देंगे
तब हम अपनी सुनेंगे
पर आज वो दिन नहीं
आज हमें कुछ नया करना है
काफी दिन हुए वो करे
आज कुछ कपडा सिलना है
और वो मिटटी भी तो आ पड़ी है घर में
आज सब कुछ साफ़ करना है
हाँ कल भी किया था यही
पर क्या करें
आज ही वो वार है
जब उसने आना है घर में
अब तो काम का सवाल है
हाँ एक दिन हम जिएंगे
जब सब काम कर लेंगे
तब हम सब छोड़ देंगे
तब हम अपनी सुनेंगे

पर क्या यही है ज़िन्दगी
क्या यही है उसकी ख़ुशी
काश हम जानवर होते
आराम से उठते
आराम से सोते
कोई सफाई ना करनी होती
किसी से रिश्ता ना निभाना होता
पर हम इंसान हैं
हमें ख़ुशी और गम का ज्ञान है
हमने ही तो बनाये हैं ये शब्द
जिसमे ज़िन्दगी से ज़्यादा
मौत का सम्मान है
जिसमे इंसान जीता नहीं
मरने की कल्पना करता है
मन में रखे लाखों सपने
भट्टी सा जलता है
हाँ ख्वाहिशें तो हैं दिल में
और जीवन में कल्पना भी है
सपने भी हज़ारों हैं
दिल में संकल्पना भी है
हाँ एक दिन हम जिएंगे
जब सब काम कर लेंगे
तब हम सब छोड़ देंगे
तब हम अपनी सुनेंगे

फिर आज ही क्यों नहीं
आज भी तो एक दिन ही है

Written By - Mystical Wanderer

इस दर्द को कैसे छुपाएं

इस दर्द को कैसे छुपाएं
ये तो आँखों से छलकता है
लाख मुस्कुराएं तब भी
रुंधे गले में अटकता है
एक पहर मौत से जीते हैं
एक पहर गुज़रे पल सीते हैं
कभी गुनगुनाते हैं वो दर्द भरे गीत
कभी बिन बात फफकते हैं
कभी बेबस से एक टूक देखते हैं
उस दबी सी चीख को
और फिर अचानक
यूँ ही सुबकते हैं
हाँ कभी मुस्कुरा भी देते हैं
आखिर लोग प्यार को तरसते हैं



इस दर्द को कैसे छुपाएं

वो लम्हे तो खुद ब खुद छलकते हैं
लाख मुस्कुराएं तब भी
कुछ लम्हे मैं में ही सुलगते हैं
कुछ पल थे जब हम जीते थे
कुछ पल ये हैं
जब हम हर पल मरते हैं
कभी गीले बदन पर
आंसू भी देखा करते हैं
कभी आंसू भरे चेहरे को
पानी से धुंधला करते हैं
उन आँखों को कैसे समझाएं
जो हम अब भी देखा करते हैं
घरोंदों के सपने आँखों में भर
वो आज भी हमें
यूँ ही देखा करते हैं
पर वो भी तो अक्स हैं उन लम्हों के
जो यादों में अक्सर सताया करते हैं

उस दर्द को कैसे छुपाएं

वह लम्हे हर लम्हों में यूँ घुलते हैं
साड़ी उम्र लगा दी हमने
लोग मोहब्बत में कुछ ऐसा पड़ते हैं
दौलत, रुतबा, खुद और खानदान
उस इश्क़ में यूँ क़ुर्बान करते हैं
खुद की खबर नहीं रहती
लोग इश्क़ जब करते हैं
घर छूट जाये इश्क़ उन राहों में
क़िस्मत से रुस्वा करते हैं
ज़िन्दगी की आबरू नहीं रहती
लोग कुछ ऐसी मोहब्बत करते हैं
उस दर्द को कैसे छुपाएं
जब खुद की परवाह ही नहीं करते हैं
लाख मुस्कुराएं तब भी
वो लम्हे आंसुओं में छलकते हैं

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

Pedantic Kamasutra

So today there is that zombie phase where i haven’t slept, haven’t worked but there is this endless attempt to work and play. Again and again i try to give shape to my sculpture; again and again my heart goes to that mythical state. Aah!! The pleasure love bringeth. Those shades of pain and gay.. so happily was i working on endless sculptures night and day. Then entered that lady – in my life and my mind’s sway.

She came like Godot – the one I had been waiting since endless decays. But then it affected my working – my heart’s real say. I wanted to give life to my sculptures – feeling her curves every day. There she came out her twin – in her perfect shape. But there was something missing – that twinkle in her eyes – the life she had before I crossed her way. But hadn't she come on her own – trying to make me feel what she had to say.

I was charmed by her beauty, was allured by her rainbow aura. Alas, she got lost in that lifeless beastly flora. I wanted to keep her as my own but she affected my art which seemed forlorn. Now whether it is her presence or her absence in now, I am unable to create anything somehow. No more perfect architectures of her forte, no more creations of my own even now. All I think about is she and her sculpture – those lines on her forehead and its epicenter – o how?

I wanted to please her initially, assured her my presence forever. But then at its cost came my art so her i had to stabber. Alas! My art had sold her soul to the devil – to that woman i once adored and loved. What made my sculpture forget my love – these very hands gave them that spur.

A kid came suddenly to complete the painting with another statue in her lap. A little child it was in stone , this all accepted with pleasure to my wrath. Is woman just a sculpture or a mother on the other hand. Who was she that went to forests far off from her motherland.

She was humiliated by all, some other man’ s child she had borne. Her only mistake was she lusted for that prince – the one who was about to be married to that useless princess. The girl was from a lower society – but she had that charm – I must say. No man could have escaped her thunder – no words to make her mind sway.

Aah!! the fecundity of that night when her i met – all abandoned beside that bay. Torn clothes she was in yet so elegant – one couldn’t have missed. She came and filled colors in my life. Her moves, her gestures and aah those strikes. Up and down went we in motion – my strong arms around her rib – small sized. She had the speed of a panther - the snake as her hair to glide. She moved with those swift motions – to cut any man’s heart in gybes.

Aah she was a beauty – now turned all wild. Amidst mountains and rivers she roams – naked with her freedom inside. wish i had been there – right with her – and her freedom beside. Was i born this coward . or did society do something to collide – that once solid spirit – to follow every wish so naive.

But was she worth it all after all?? wasn’t she from a lower stall. Her people had abandoned her once. She knew how to face it all with her own lungs. She is strong. I am sure she’ll handle. I must focus now – upon my sculpture with another handle.

Yesterday I heard a strange ceremony on the road and i saw her being carried on a princely ride . aah!! a vision she was – elegantly dressed with the prince beside??? Wasn’t he the same who had once made her abandon – her home, her entity , respect her life. I heard she is the royal mistress to that royal prince, his beside.

The new queen never satisfied the prince and he remembered the same night – where once he had met those thunders of her windy speed to his collide. But i love her and this can’t happen. I want her right by my side.

I’ll handle all punishments, would even get killed to get back my child. She had come to my refuge, doesn’t he know she is mine. But i had abandoned her once. Maybe she went to him that is why. But how come she do it – go back to that silly child. I am the man – the one with all masculinity – that prince can never meet her expectations so wild. Aah how can she do it – unchaste venom – devil’s child.

But I want her now – now that she had lived her wild side. I would give her that home – the life she once wanted along with the child. And she would be my wife, my kid’s mother – my sculpture’s mould. I would face anyone, now, I’ll be bold.

But would she accept me now – now that I had forsaken her long back when she was wild. I am sure – she would accept – after all she loves me she would be only my wife.

Wait!!What did i hear? She had forsaken that prince too?? Aah!! She was one such woman - could have left anyone in other’s lieu. I am glad I left her long back. Let me get back to my sculpture’s tool. Let’s just change the setting. Let’s give this woman another view. Stone hearted she already is, let’s just cut its heart and adorn her neck with a scarlet robe. I think my sculpture is complete now – stone hearted the woman – stone hearted her shadow.

Huh! once i thought love to be a beautiful thing.  Love, i tell you is a robe around a neck to sling. One should live a life of practicality, should do something constructive too. But never fall in live i tell you. Love is a devil’s flue. Hey, check out that lady. She looks hot – let me get through. A closer look of her for now, and my feeling for now are subdued. But tomorrow i would find her address, about her life and her crew. Whom she meets and whom she dates – let me first get through.

Written By - Mystical Wanderer

Self v/s Soul

Reflections on....

A Dialogue of Self and Soul

So the ‘self’ and ‘soul’ were once in a conversation. Both wanted to halt at one station. Soul wanted poet to shun all anxieties of life and work his way out of intense strife. The solution was in a winding stair moving in the direction of pole star. There it ended in an abyss so dark. No body, no pain, no entity but darkness’s reign.

Self rather focused on Sato’s sword – spotless and shimmering – talking of histories and ancestral generations. 500 years it had survived with a strange immortality. Yet self loved all this artificiality. So what if there were blames and names of society. so what if man was mortal – victim of social vicinity. If there were pains, then pleasures too. Aah, the sword’s beauty – it seeked nothing in lieu.

The sword spoke of centuries of heroic valor.  It was covered in an attractive silk cloth – out from some japans lady’s cellar. The cover had purple flowers embroidered all around. Though faded yet it had that historical sound. And how could one have missed the glamour of blades – so old yet nowhere its stories fades.

So there in those ancient tales self sees life. There in self – introspection it observes no strife. There was no need for the poet to sail till Byzantium. What is the use of getting lost in abstract just because you had a certain momentum?

Self was dazzled by life’s ride. True, it had pains but there was also the spirit to fight. And there was love too – what else can man ask in lieu. True, man is a foolish creature. Whatever society portrays – he considers it his nature. he falls in love with proudy woman. He dishevels his own stem. But, life is not so bad after all. there is bliss in adam’s fall. How else would one have distinguished – pain from pleasure.  Sensations are after all – man’s greatest treasure.

Soul still seeks that abstract union with darkness. Self sloshes it mentioning its worthlessness. What would it feel to feel nothing at all? soul with in a body has no entity after all. soul hence accepts its failures. Self prefers to again meet some new stirs. This time there is htis strange realization – of the beauty of life and its limited creation. So deep inside – one decides – to not get deluded in spiritual salvation and customize one’s own psychological nation; to feel good about life no matter what; to live life king size – though being a mere dot. Mortality has its own beauty after all. it has options to rise after each fall. Hence man chooses to enjoy those eternal cycles of life and death - To wait for a refresh button after each of its wrath.

Mystical Wanderer

Whisps of Nirvana

So the city at times brings those rhythms of nights where you transcend your body all warmly tugged under those layers of furs and reach to that wild outside talking with wind with loud music behind. That excitement, thrill somehow penetrates deep inside each of your pores and you reach those colorful theaters with action and life – being out leashed right between those walls of darkness. There upon that platform you find yourself with that huge spot light creating a silver halo like that moon shimmering in that shady sky.

And once again those reflections and shadows enter your psyche making you see your own mirror image – out there in the wide cosmos. There are dancing people, nosing ones too. You observe the aging of time, your time reversal too. And yet, strangely, the thread of life – remains the same - glowing right there in the center of the circle – connecting all those dimensions of bifurcated terms to one unique self of yours.

And then you realize your social cipher vocation, endless vain research and those diving into spark lights – here in the present. You wonder, was it all worth it? Did I actually live it? Should I have done something else instead? Why am I not getting the right knit? And you get entangled in those nets of time only for a moment and then some other moment. You are still powerful and strong. You pull yourself from that fabric of right and wrong.

There you see a brighter self. The girl still erect in that night show shelf. There you see that strength to face it all. There is nature’s cosmic fall. And you enjoy the thrill of jumping from that cliff of ego - Right into that regenerating watery meadow. There you swim and transcend into some other time. There you undergo the journey of elemental self in rhyme. And there happens a rebirth – of bodiless creature - Having inside that fire, water, air, earth – yet with hollowed feature.

The hollow being keeps on getting its fill. It keeps aging in time’s mill. Each life-energy rotates that key. Each closure makes him free. and the being when realizes that mechanic entity. It seeks some other unmade city. All around was a land of zombies - Working so homogeneously with heterogeneous minds. But the spirit was the same – no spirit at all. all had huge egos despite of fall. There she escaped those dead spirits so alive. There she seeked another world – in her style.

In the shades of literature she found a new land.  She had epiphanies with cosmic hand. There she needed no more society. there was her – idealized society. But there was a loop- hole too. It was a utopia – in her craving’s lieu. After all, she was still inside her furs. There were no roads of real, no moon- bug spurs.

So there she iconized her reality, there she accepted the life of duality. The key was to be aware – aware of her mysterious secret. Bliss is nowhere but only inside it could be met - Inside those folds of literature, those slippery letters, and abrupt fracture. In those fragments of desires – was an invisible thread- of faith in cosmos, faith in her self. There it was – the linked up timeline -Those dreams of shadows and their wispy guideline. There she followed her guardian wisps. There she attained her inner bliss.

After all Buddha was not a deadly state of immortality. Buddha attained Buddha-hood right in his inner city. It is the state when one is content and aware – of cycles of life and death – one is bewared. And in each breath in and each breath out – one becomes a transcended stout. There in that micro moment between breaths –there happens the realization of mortality and wrath. There one attains freedom from it all. There one imbibes cosmic sound – stories of rise and fall. And there you get at peace with the time; there in your head is cosmic rhyme. 

written by - Mystical Wanderer

Flushed Dugs

Flushed dugs

 On Every night of thunders

Happens tectonic wonders

A tower standing all erect

Sparks a light so direct

Tower tries to touch the sky

There a cliff craves to fly

cliff has a jive as surface

it puddles inside its own face

on every thunderstorm

jive gets to roam

it shivers with that light

aah the awe of sight

lightening with light of tower

desire of plentiful shower

tower gazes into the mounting

making her suddenly spring

there she wants to collide

it promises a  thunderous ride

tower keeps rising with the sound

of jiggling cliff –so smooth and round

even more fascinating was her root

warm and cushiony it appeared – to suit

how the tower craved to locate

himself upon that cushiony state

but there was this distance in between

those facts all flowing in the stream

the facts were little cicadas

jarring all around right through Sparta

how the jarring disturbed this night

aah that tower touching the height

she wanted to touch it too

craving for some caress as woo

he however had some urgency

he was not sure of his fluency

so there he hastened up the tune

and mandolin went out of tune

his sudden jump increased the jarring

there he fell right into that stream

a sudden thunderbolt and the light was gone

the cliff was no more fawn

she became aware of the jarring too

alas!! There was no woo

and yet there was the golden time

when madoline was in sloshing rhyme

so there both gently lied down

watching that faint dawn

wishing for yet another such night

with some other desired sight

On Every night of thunders

Happens tectonic wonders

Mystical Wanderer

मेरा कोई नाम नहीं

मेरा कोई नाम नहीं

मेरा कोई नाम नहीं
मै अकेला हूँ
ज़िन्दगी की दिक्कतों को
मै अकेला ही झेलता हूँ
कहने को एक बड़ा सा परिवार है
मेरे लिए वो सिर्फ
मुसीबत का पहाड़ है
अब आप ही बताइये
कहाँ से लॉन इतने पैसे
घर में इतना खाना
मै लाऊँ कैसे
पिताजी की चिल्लुम
माँ का चश्मा
बच्चों के लिए रोटी
बीवी के साथ होना
कैसे करूँ इतना कुछ
कैसे लाऊँ सब कुछ
दिवाली भी तो आ रही है
और बेटी की शादी भी करनी होगी
सारी मुसीबतें
इखट्ठे ही आती हैं
इतनी सारी ज़रूरतें
आखिर कैसे पूरी होंगी
 शर्मा जी की बात
मान लेता हूँ
कर लेता हूँ चोरी
बड़े बड़े लोग
यही तो करते हैं
थोड़ी सी हेरा - फेरी
पर साली ये किस्मत
वक़्त पे साथ नहीं देती
ज़मीर की वो आवाज़
जान क्यों नहीं ले लेती
पर कैसा ज़मीर
कैसी अच्छाई
अरे बूखे पेट से पूछो
क्या होती है भूख
वो टूटे टुकड़े रोटी के
कितने कीमती होते हैं
उन्हें क्या पता
जो गद्दों पे सोते हैं
क्या जानते होंगे वो
ज़मीन पर सोना
बिना किसी नाम के
मौत से बत्तर
ज़िन्दगी जीना
उनके लिए तो ये सब
एक खेल है
कहते हैं
नीचे रहना नहीं सीखे
तो ज़िन्दगी फेल है
अरे खाड़ी पहन लेने से
नीचे नहीं आ जाते
खाड़ी भी तो
इतनी महंगी है
और महंगे हैं
वह शांत सन्नाटे
हमें तो भीड़ में ही
रहना पड़ता है
उस सड़क के
एक कोने पर
भूखे पेट ही
सोना पड़ता है
ये भी
अपनी अपनी किस्मत है
किसी के पास कुछ नहीं
कैसी के पास
सब है

मेरा कोई नाम नहीं
मै अकेला हूँ
और बेनाम हैं मेरे जैसे
कई लोग
जो उस सड़क के किनारे सोते हैं
पल में हस्ते
पल में रोते हैं

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

प्यार भरी बातें

हाँ देख ली दुनिया हमने
वो ज़िन्दगी उसकी रस्में
जी लिए वो झूठे रिश्ते
अधूरी बातें अधूरी किश्तें
ख़त्म कर दिया खुद को
उस दुनिया के झगड़ों में
क़ुबूल किया सब कुछ
उन टूटे सपनों में
जानते हैं सब झूठ होता है
वह प्यार वह धोखा
सब वक़्त का खेल होता है
पर फिर भी चाहतें हैं
वह सपनों सी रातें
कोई तो अब कर ले हमसे
प्यार भरी बातें

रखते थे दुनिया
को पैरों में हम भी

तब ज़िन्दगी में खुशियाँ थीं
और आते थे गम भी
किसी को रुतबे से
गले लगते थे
किसी को गुस्से से
अचानक भगाते थे
कोई हम से
बेइंतिहा मोहब्बत करता था
किसी को हमारा चेहरा
कुछ ऐसा अखरता था
पर ज़िंदगी चलती जाती थी
हर दिन हर रात
कुछ यूँ बदलती जाती थी
हर इच्छा हर बात
बदलते वक़्त के साथ
हम भी बदल जाते थे
कभी रोते पूरी रात
कभी हस्ते गाते थे
चलो देख लेंगे
कुछ और
टूटे कस्मे वादे
कोई तो अब कर ले हमसे
प्यार भरी बातें

कोई प्यार से पुकारे
तो कितना अच्छा लगता है
ज़िन्दगी में कोई आये
सच सपना सा लगता है
जीने को जैसे
मक़सद सा मिल जाता है
हर पल किसी का ख्याल
कुछ ऐसा आता है
तब दो निवाले
हलक से नहीं उतरते
जब तक उसके बोल
कानों में नहीं पड़ते
जीते हैं किसी की ज़िन्दगी
खुद को करके
उसके नाम
पाते हैं जैसे सब कुछ
साड़ी ख़ुशी
सारा आराम
हाँ हर ख़ुशी को
ख़त्म तो होना है
हर सुबह के बाद
रात को भी होना है
देख लेंगे फिर से
कुछ और सूनी रातें
कोई तो अब कर ले हमसे
प्यार भरी बातें

ज़िन्दगी भी कुछ अजीब होती है

कभी अकेली
कभी कइयों के करीब होती है
कभी मिलेगा सपनों सा
अनोखा प्यार
वो बाप का साथ
वो माँ का प्यार
कभी अचानक
कोई हमसफ़र बन जायेगा
कभी वक़्त सब कुछ
एक साया सा बना जायेगा
पर सायों के डर से
जीना थोड़ी रुक जायेगा
अरे ख़ुशी मिलेगी
तो गम भी आएगा
तो क्या बिगाड़ देंगे हमारा
कुछ रूखी कसमें
टूटे वादे
कोई तो अब कर ले हमसे
प्यार भरी बातें

Written By - Mystical Wanderer

The World Of Literature

Words Of Rent

Books have a strange transcending function. They make you travel through time’s many dimensions. There suddenly you enter the world of the author - at times into that given, at times you become its revived author. And then there are those moments of discovery, a meaning changed, and a feeling’s recovery. Also there are those folds of past. Of moments that were there but never last. There in before when you first entered that world – there in some other time – on bed all curled. But there is this ‘now’ another dimension-Same story, different construction.

So the books provide a nostalgic familiarity – to those worlds you loved and those of reality. The moments keep repeating inside or around- that fragrance of past, that haunting sound. And out of those many worlds it also has this unique quality –it gives you an escape from illusionary reality. There in real illusions you enter in fusions. With varied confusions, you undergo illusions. But each has its aromatic ambiance so different from the other, the fragrance of scents and slimy gutter.

You enter those dungeons of times, you listen to those imagined rhymes. You live life transcending your self – in each of those characters your individuality melts. There you become a collected self of numerous shades. There in fecundity your singularity fades. And you begin to love the magic of letters – to fly – your every particle flutters. You tend to attain some wings with many colors -many imaginations with time’s spurs.

History and ancient civilizations, emotions and repressed fascinations, the zest for life and craving of death – those songs of glory and trumpets of wraths – you listen to them all – being a part of every stall. There you live into those numerous bodies, many characters one embodies.

books are not just illusions after all. they have stories of real life rise and fall. There one finds an escape – into a theater without spade. It might cause many ambers inside your head – you may blush or out of anger – turn red. But there amidst those many stories – there are our ancestral histories . Those are  desires of men – being repeated through all times. They are mental creations –breathing in many rhymes.

Yes, the tempo changes – so do the language. But that is the only way, out of a heavy cage – the cage of time and numerous events – life is all dependency upon those words of rent. 

Written by - Mystical Wanderer

वो मदहोशी

शाम की अँधेरी ख़ामोशी
वो भीनी सी ख़ुशी
वो मदहोशी
अंधेरों में खोया चाँद वहां
सुनहरा, उजला, उड़ता सा धुंआ
समुन्दर की ठंडी हवाएं
चुपके से आएं
हौले से गुनगुनाएं
वो तेरा भीगा सा हाथ
हर वक़्त इक तेरा साथ
ठंडी रेत में दौड़ना हमारा
वो लहरों से बातें
वो प्यार ढेर सारा
कानों में तेरा धीरे से बुदबुदाना
यूँ करीब आ कर
सांसों से गुदगुदाना
आज भी हवा हम से
यूँ ही बातें करती है
आज भी वो लहरें
ऊपर से गुज़रती हैं
तू नहीं है
फिर भी है साथ
कैसे महसूस करती हूँ
वो तेरा साथ
कैसे लगता है
कि कोई कुछ कह रहा है
कैसे हर पल लगता है
कि वो ही पहर है
जब तू था साथ
हाथों में ले के हाथ
और हम हवा से बातें करते the
कभी तो हम खुश हुआ करते थे
शाम कि अँधेरी ख़ामोशी
वो भीनी सी ख़ुशी
वो मदहोशी

Written By - Mystical Wanderer

मुझे अपने बच्चे को दूध पिलाना है

मुझे अपने बच्चे को दूध पिलाना है

अरे भाईसाहब
कृपया ध्यान दें
मुझे अपने बच्चे को दूध पिलाना है
आप मुझे घूर सकते हैं
कल फिर ऐसा मौका
कहाँ आना है
मेरा बच्चा भूखा है
वरना मैं  इसे यहाँ दूध
कभी नहीं पिलाती
पर आप क्यों फ़िक्र करते हैं
आप मुझे घूर सकते हैं
और तो और
दूध पीते मेरे बच्चे को
पुचकार भी सकते हैं
अरे शर्माते क्यों हैं
आराम से सेंटी बजाइए
मैं  सुन रही हूँ
और मेरा बच्चा भी
और हाँ आपके साथ खड़े
वो अधेड़ उम्र के मुस्कुराते  पुरुष भी
तो शर्माइये मत
अपनी आँखें
अच्छे से इधर घुमाइए
अब क्यों लाज शर्म करते हैं
आप मुझे घूर सकते हैं
अरे भाईसाहब
कृपया ध्यान दें
मुझे अपने बच्चे को दूध पिलाना है






























Written By - Mystical Wanderer

Auden's Lullaby

Lullbye – an Auden's poem that begins with a remarkable set of intimate lines where he asks his gay beloved to rest his head upon his ‘faithless arm’. The mention of this specific adjective ‘faithless’ breaks the barriers of those Byronic verses where the poet never confesses his faithlessness, rather blames the other was the same. Unlike so celebrated Byronic parameters of loyalty and fidelity to one’s love for lifetime, Auden instead celebrated the fecundity of caress.

Being gay in 1930’s was not a simple position to hold. At that time such men used to hide their status to save their social role. Auden instead focuses on this moment and now and claims infidelity to be a construction of institutionalized core. Universal reality includes all disloyalties –as they are not wrong rather a part of humanity.

For him, what matters most is the intensity of passion – right in this moment. It is here that the love should be pure and strong – enough to last despite of numerous other stands. It doesn't matter how many flames a man gets into. What matters is this love – to make him get through.

One prime – most concern of Auden is time and the doings of time. He laments the fact that no matter how beautiful a person is or what kind of fidile/infidile relation he shares, every child meets the end of nature’s care. And there all beauty of childhood gets lost. There the person dies with all sickly frost. So why be obsessed with this idea of stability and permanence. Time changes so do beauty and those feelings immense.

He looks at the lover and prays in his heart- to let just this night – far off from time’s dart. Anyhow, the beauty or even feelings won’t last. But yes, this moment, this love he wants to retain even after his own last.

Usually avant- guarde poems included carnival desires of a poet, where he pleads his lover to stay in the moment and live for the passion rather than bothering about that outside world. Donn’es poem ‘hold your tongue and let me love’ deals with the same emotion. But Auden touches other strings. His is a post – intimacy poem where his emotion is intense and true. He wants good for his loves despite of all his guilt and mortal being. Anyhow notions like guilt are merely the products or constructions of some institutionalized prisonic ring.

He rather believes in the purity of sensations. Here in this moment – here – despite of numerous other affiliations. His next symbol become the roman goddess of love – Venus her name – but actions no more of dove. She rather seems grave to him. maybe still reflecting the mortality of skin. Nevertheless she sends her sympathetic blessings. But the poem has many more dressings.

He incarnates the body of a hermit – far off in some forest fit. The hermit suddenly underwent a sensation. Carnal ecstasy – with his fascination. This might seem misfit – the character of the hermit. But this is reality – this is what Auden wants to hit. And like the loner hermit he too feels lonely at other times. Not many options with his limited choice. But this one night he doesn't want to lose. These moments of love in his lover’s head he wants all fused.

He wishes him well for that outside world. He desires those windy dawns in morning on his curls. And he wants him saved from all the doings of time. Those dry noons, those insulting night’s rhymes.

But it is not god that he relies upon, not even Venus. It is he and his human love with which he wants him covered. His own love and assurance of it in all other times – despite of his intimacy with many other rhymes.

Yet, this one night is too precious to lose. Or think about future possibilities or his character as lose. Those things don’t matter to him much. It is rather the purity of emotion and touch. He wants still to save his lover from all possible issues. Yet he wants him to be satisfied with mortal rues. Maybe he hopes for his lover to not fall for that quest of never answered questions. Maybe , he himself wants to stay far off from such notions.

But here this night is what is precious to him as he has his lover. And doesn't want to lose a single whisper, kiss or love’s shower. So that mild embrace has all his longings and desires. it has his deep most passions – his innermost fires. The ambres of which are scattered everywhere – that society at large lensing his innermost urge.

 Written By - Mystical Wanderer

क्या आज भी तुम वैसे ही हो जैसे कल थे

एक मुद्दत के बाद
रु-बा -रु हुए हैं तुमसे
क्या आज भी तुम वैसे ही हो
जैसे कल थे
क्या आज भी
बारिश में तुम्हे गाना अच्छा लगता है?
क्या आज भी अचानक बिना बात
तुम्हे मुस्कुराना अच्छा लगता है?
आज भी तुम छनछनाती पायल के साथ चलती हो?
वह धुंधले से चाँद को देख कर
ख़ुशी से उछलती हो?
या अब नहीं रही तुम में वो बात
वो दिल से हंसना वो रोना बिन बात

इक मुद्दत के बाद
रु-बा-रु हुए हैं तुमसे
जाने चले गए थे कहाँ
फासले कैसे होते हैं बयां
जितना  बढ़ाओ
लगते हैं कम से
क्या आज भी
तुम्हारी आँखों में चमक सी है?
क्या आज भी तुम में वो अदा वो कशिश सी है?
आज भी तुम मुझे देख कर वैसे ही मुस्कुराओगी
या पेह्चानोगी भी नहीं
किसी के कानो में फ़ुसफ़ुसाओगी
या तुम कोई और बन गयी हो
वक़्त के बहाव में
थम सी गयी हो

इक मुद्दत के बाद
रु-ब-रु हुए हैं तुम से
क्या तुम पहचानती हो मुझे
कल हम तुम थे
क्या आज भी तुम्हारे कानों में
वो बाली चमकती है
चेहरे पे चमक
दिल में आग भभकती है
आज भी तुम सोती हो उस तकिये के साथ
जिस पे धीमे से मुस्कुराती थी
हर सपनो भरी रात
या तुमने नींद को कहीं पीछे छोड़ दिया
शायद ज़िन्दगी ने कुछ ज़्यादा रंग  दिया

इक मुद्दत के बाद
रु-बा-रु हुयें हैं तुमसे
ना देखा था आसमां
जैसे कब से
क्या आज भी तुम उड़ने की हिम्मत रखती हो
बहती नदी में
आज भी फुदकती हो?
आज भी ढलती रात में
तुम्हे कुछ नशा सा
 आज भी बादलों को देखना
तुम्हे अच्छा लगता है?
या बंद दीवारों को अपना बना तुमने
उन भीगे से गालों के ढलते यौवन में

इक मुद्दत के बाद
रु-बा-रु हुए हैं तुमसे
क्या आज भी तुम वैसी ही हो
जैसे कल थे एक मुद्दत के बाद
रु ब रु हुए हैं तुमसे
क्या आज भी तुम वैसे ही हो
जैसे कल थे

written by - MYSTICAL WANDERER

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं हमसे है

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
और हमें शिकवा भी तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
शायद तुम सोच रहे होगे
की तुम सही हो
हो सकता है यही सही हो
आखिर हम तुम्हे आंकने वाले
होते कौन हैं
ज़िन्दगी की इस भीड़ में
तुम्हे अपना बुलाने वाले
आखिर हम होते कौन हैं

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
और ज़िन्दगी का शिकवा भी तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
वरना क्यों आज भी हम तेरी राह देखते
क्यों आज भी हर रात तुझे ही सोचते
क्यों दोहराते मन ही मन
वो वक़्त तुम्हारे साथ
क्यों करते चुपके चुपके
मन में तुमसे बात

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
शायद हमें प्यार भी तुमसे नहीं
 हम ही से है
क्यों सोचते वरना खुद की ख़ुशी
क्यों चोरटे वो ताने
वो गम की गली
तुम तो थे
और वो सब झूठे नाम भी थे
हाँ तुम्हारा साथ तोह था
और हमारे खोखले रिश्ते के कई नाम भी थे

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
शायद अब हम हम नहीं
कुछ कम से हैं
 वरना ना हम कभी तुम्हारे पास आते
ना ज़िन्दगी में वह ख़ुशी वह गम आते
ना जानते तुमको और तुम्हारा साथ
ना चाहते वो सब कुछ तुम्हारे साथ

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
शायद यही था होना
जो हुआ हमसे है
वरना क्यों हम ये कदम उठाते
क्यों तुमसे तोड़ते वो सदियों के नाते
क्यों ना माफ़ कर पाते
तुम्हारी लाखों खतायें
क्यों नहीं रहते तुम्हारे पास
जिसे हम इतना चाहें

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
क्यूंकि फरेबी नहीं होता
तो तुम में न खोता
वरना तो हम भी जानते थे
जीने की कला
पर हम तो चाहते थे
जीने मरने का सिलसिला
शायद तभी तुम ज़िन्दगी में आये
और बन गए वो अधूरे से साये

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
हमसे है
पर फरेबी ही सही
ये दिल तुमसे नहीं  हमसे है
और अब तुम हम में समां नहीं सकते
वो गुज़रा वक़्त वापस हम ला नहीं सकते
हाँ अलविदा कह सकते हैं तुम्हे हमारे साथ
वो धुंधली सी यादें वह भीगी सी रात

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
फरेबी थे तुम
फरेबी से हम खुद से हैं
पर अब होगी एक नयी सुबह एक नयी शाम
और हम और तुम करेंगे एक लम्बा आराम
देखो देखो सुबह इंतज़ार कर रही है
हाँ शाम उसे धीमे से कुछ कह रही है
लगता है वो कभी साथ रहते थे
शायद उनमें आप रहते थे

इस दिल का फरेब तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
लेकिन आप ही के जैसे
मेरा दिल भी तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
हाँ अब है हमारा वक़्त अजीब
ना तुम हो जो मेरे करीब
पर दिल में फिर भी तुम ही रहते हो
फुसफुसा कर शायद कुछ कहते हो
और हम मुस्कुरा से देते हैं
रात के सन्नाटों में
देखते हैं तुमको सपनो में उन रातों में

इस दिल का फरेब  तुमसे नहीं
 हमसे है
चलो इसे भी माफ़ कर देते हैं
क्यूंकि इश्क़ हमसे तुमसे ज़्यादा
खुद से है

Mystical Wanderer

घर में लगा है दरवाज़ा

उस अँधेरी सी चौखट
की छोटी सी मुस्कान
घर में लगा है दरवाज़ा
मोहल्ले की आन
अब तो मुझे
कोई देख नहीं पायेगा
जो भी झांकेगा
वापस लौट जायेगा
अब मई चैन से सोऊंगा
और मेरे बच्चे भी तो होंगे
और फिर उनकी भी तो शादी करनी होगी
तब मई नयी दीवार बनाऊंगा
एक नया दरवाज़ा लाऊंगा

कल तक हम खुले में सोते थे
खुले आम जीते मरते थे
खुले में रोते थे
तब आंसू गिराने को दीवार नहीं थी
कभी कभी तो इसी बात पे रोते थे
पर अब दरवाज़ा आ गया है
अब रोने में मज़ा भी आएगा
खुल कर रोऊंगा आज
लेन - देन सब बाद में देखा जायेगा
जब रो- हंस के थक जाऊंगा
तो फिर खूब नाम कमाऊँगा
इतने पैसे कमाऊँगा
और सब को जलाउंगा
तब मैं नयी दीवार बनाऊंगा
एक नया दरवाज़ा लाऊंगा

अरे अरे ये क्या
ये बारिश कहाँ से आ गयी
अरे गीली चौखट थी
ये आंधी कहाँ से चा गयी
क्या करूँगा मैं अब
कैसे ये बात बताऊंगा
टूट गया है मेरा दरवाज़ा
अब तो मैं रो भी न पाउँगा
कितनी अच्छी थी न वो चौखट
इतनी मुश्किल से बानी थी
उसके बिना ना जी सकूंगा
ना मर पाउँगा
अब मैं उसका वो प्यार
कैसे भूल पाउँगा

अब मैं नयी दीवार बनाऊंगा
एक नया दरवाज़ा लाऊंगा



Mystical Wanderer

That Feminist Writing

Those bodily dressings...

So the other day while sitting in ccd, I was reading with a lot of concentration. I had my full focus right there in every line, only that sudden abrupt moment to make me go offline. A sudden glare of affection for some sudden moment, there on the other table , went my heart’s dent. Beauty indeed is one lusty abstract. It takes you to that world so vague, far off from facts.

So there collided my heart to encounter a spectacular guy. He was handsome indeed aah such venusian highs. But then I was a female and had all its courtly arrogance and ego. I went back to my work without a hint of try. But the guy too had undergone similar trailings. They were all magnatisms of the other sex.

So I -sitting oblivious of any such happenings - tried to focus on those same lines no more happening. But then he came suddenly with a vague reason. There I was caught – in those gestures with treason. Nevertheless i maintained that charm and stoic expression. But he wooed that conversation through a strange fascination.

So then the talks grew right in few moments. There in front of all – the staff and some audience. He offered his number - For some reason. But i had my very own illusions. So i maintained the lady like attitude. There I took his number - as a due. But no,  i didn’t offer my no. I said I would call him soon whenever in slumber.

And deep inside with an ego satisfied I sat there confidently. So what if weirdly dressed, I had then been approached formerly. And so i decided not to give my no. Cause then it would be considered a lady’s fall. So maintaining your respect comes from this society. whatever its notions are, whatever its artificiality.

But, I wonder, what if i provide my no. To him and interact – to find out who he is to be exact. And explore may be some unknown dimensions - Some new choices, some new functions. And undergo the sensations of going through his psychology. And map it all inside my head – like a piece of geology. After all, we are all – books – only with hidden pages. How would it feel to enter those different cages. And let those souls be out for some time. And create new songs with numerous rhymes.

So should I maybe give my no. To him and explore – those unknown blue depths, those magnificent shores. How would it feel to dive and lay there in the sand .how would it feel to hold a solid hand. But wouldn’t it be a challenge to my independent status? Wouldn’t it be a big question-mark upon my freedom – apparatus?

But then I want to call him mine too- If not mine, then of my my follower’s crew. What if he is worth a keep. But would I be able to tolerate in every instance – his peak. Men are once possessive lot I must say. Sugar-coated they come, lavish they lay. But when it comes to a single later stage – like that where the woman wants to leave that cage, well they outleash their real shades – black and red – knives and blades .

And I suddenly hear those shrills and cries in that house beside. This – this violence is man’s real side. They take out their love and take out their frustration. Woman – the sponge – his woman – his fascination.
and yet, I think I would give my no. after all.

Mystical Wanderer

Paid on both Sides

A coin is almost always – paid on both sides. It is always someone else’s property and lies in some other demise. Once in your pocket it brings in those joys and insecurity, it makes you worry and deems you in artificiality. It becomes your memento of success – that which glitters out in light. You tend to fall victim of that social construction so blind. You never realize the effects –after all you have no escape from it. Either go out and earn you bread – or at one place, all insulted - you sit.

I am sure, food was never priced the time it came into existence. Even man was a priceless creature once. More modernity, more is that superficiality – the doings of that single coin and that nature it did shun. Long back, stone and goodies were exchanged – barter system it was given name. But how about that age – when life was not a stage, when man was that basic essential being – far off from constructions and its doings.

Or were there always some kind of constructions? What was the name of the religion before religion came into existence. Was man still under some construction – may be some ancient institute that proves some kind of function.

Undergoing the transitions of dominant ideologies, one wonders what ‘is this psychology?’ Is it just to order and repress or is it to have some kind of chronology? But aren’t we dishonest and undisciplined by nature? or does that nature so punctual portrays our caricature? How about those sudden disasters that take away all life? they give it a new phase – in rambles and strife.  But many calls it reconstruction, calls it Shiva’s function. Why then is discipline such a huge issue. Or do those disasters also fit as time’s tissue.

The cycle or order is impossible to estimate. After all, history and religion also have their rate. The rates and values differ with time. Humans – their worth, their talent or those flattery lines. I wonder – where all the coin speaks. I wonder is it also in those emotions that it reeks. Those intimate moments have already been corroded by it. naked gestures have in their lap that coin – comfortably fit.

The crown of nature queen has an imprisoning poison in between - The powerful glitter of coin – blackening its every stream.

Written By - Mystical Wanderer

The Fecundity Of Time

At times i wonder, how exactly does my life work or am I even aware that I am alive and living my life in a particular way? It feels strange to reflect back upon my life so far and undergo a shocking journey through the passage of time. I mean, who would believe it is the same me who had undergone all those changes in that short intervals of time. It feels as if I have been changing selves all through my life – like that larva or even a snake which keeps on wearing and breaking free of various skins only to leave a dead carcass with a whole new skin with numerous colors upon the new scales.

So, what instills me to cause such huge changes? What motivates me to dive inside new situations right away? Aren't people usually uncomfortable with changes? How come i have had such a smooth way? But it wasn't smooth altogether. It has been one ride- full of intense sways. If only I had not been born with this basic impulse to follow my heart –and have that faith in its whatever way. At times I land up in strange valleys, some journeys take me to hilly ways. Each time i wonder, is it the right way? Or should i have stayed in that before, at least  it had that comfort of a common day.

And yet, its intensities that thrill me.. i somehow find out new ways – to be happy and feel good about life - To carve out my very own way. Those forests at times seem scary. So do those strange new places with cold days. But can life be any better than being in new situations and facing new challenges every day? True, not all like such changes. Many prefer their own fixed dimensions to stay. Yet, i believe in expanding.- expanding my spirit to all mystical rays.

So, there are some good experiences and some bad lessons too. Some people are very helpful. Some can drive your patience and life away. And yet, what is ecstatic is the intoxicant stage- the phase when you struggle to get up – and there you see that faint dusky ray. And there you lie all calm in the arms of night - Waiting for that dawn with a faint moon in sight. And there you wait for each morning and each evening. As every moment has its own stage. And you become both an actor and spectator. You become your very own creator. It is bliss to glide along with every moment. It is heaven right in this moment – this very way.

Or if you don’t like it still. Then better give your life a chance. After all, it is possible, to give every melody a little prance. And life becomes a huge stage – meant to be full of actions and sensations. Jump down from a mountain or sit back and have hallucinations. Dive deep into a river and flow with it to unknown destination.  Universe is bountiful of beauty. It is worth it to give a try to every possible way.

So I guess, the time is indeed some entity to either walk along or watch it glide past your way. So smile and change as required. Or the time would keep you at bay. Life is all about grabbing opportunities and expanding your own horizons - To travel to endless places and explore universal emotions. There in that outside, you undergo a journey all inside to your soul. There you find differences and similarities, there you feel the happiness so pure. You step out and drink that nectar out of that hilly spring. Feel the windy jolts and wonder at the beauty it brings. And in change one finds the only stability - To keep that insecurity away. And there one attains his entity to feel whole and be one with that moony ray. 

Mystical Wanderer

Enlarging Your Inner Self

The ecstasy of unison

There on a moony night, the two trekked up hillside. They kept walking till they reached that strange cottage. Neon shaded , full of people with strange attires. She knew she had to act brave. Upon him she had this strange faith. They were there for a purpose. To have that unique experience of union with nature. there the man gave them a drop each. Shiva’s trance suddenly was out of reach. That place had strange hallucinatory power. Was it the music or was it flower power. They felt it unsafe to stay there any longer. Off they began their journey to somewhere. Beyond that hill right in the middle of a narrow bridge – they sat down together to see that river below at rage. The river was stangely gothic that night. It wanted to engulf them with the bridge somehow.

They sat upon that moving bridge right in the middle. Facing it all like a nature’s riddle. It was one moment of awe – when that river they saw. Each holding hands the helplessness they draw. They rose up to further enter inside a forest, He with a tiny light – so florescent. Again and again he switched it on and off. There in the forest was a civilization at shroff. Amidst flowers and trees she saw humans and figures. There in those curves – she created her picture. The place was full of images so true. The world which seemed real few hours before – seemed like a futile crew.

There was the essential world – yes  , that forest world so true. There amidst those mountains she saw the image of Buddha – isolated from the crew. And yes, there was a star show too. The entire universe was suddenly so beautiful and a spectacular view.

He hallucinated upon her strangely. To him she became a snake so widely. Her every curve became the tangle of a snake. There she glided with his every vision’s take. Her moments became a snake dance to which he did prance. Her clothes became that scaly skin, to challenge his heart at stake. He ran suddenly behind a vixen – which he had encountered in his mind’s game. Horror was the feeling she suddenly entered – alone in a forest – was its name.

There with the light gone, forest turned strangely murderous. Everything was piney , even those sudden eyes in flashes and bursts. She knew she had to walk a certain way – in order to be safe. Alas the way had ascended – on its own – like a mirage day. Those plants on sides had hands to grab. Her feet were in danger – from those knifes to stab. She knew it was all in her hands – to stay scared or take an action. It was all a matter of fraction. She had to walk and not think for some time. What dare it was in her mental rhyme.

 She walked and walked praying inside. there she crossed that way and reached the other side. A new world was waiting for her trippy mind. There was a man with dark psy behind. And he had returned too to be by her side. There they sat together – with trance in mind. And there she closed her eyes all lost in the music. There she saw those beginnings and catharsis in series so strategic.

And there came a moment when trance became universal noise – gently transcending its form to that spiritual voice. Om-Om she heard around – Om was that universal sound. Enlarged and expanded she felt, in om’s sound she began to melt.  It felt so huge to be the size of the universe - To have that power to gift or curse. And there she felt what it felt to be inside a body. There she was enlarging with Om’s melody. She grew and grew till it was impossible to hold on – when spirit became too light and heavy – like a hollowed stone. And there happened that epiphany moment – only punctured with her mental dent. she was too week for the experience she felt. So back into the earthly world she dwelt.

World seemed strange and alien suddenly. And yet she had just now been the world so heavenly. She wanted to eat and sleep then. There was no he, no man. All through this she had been offered that fog. Again and again she had felt that smog. But now the world was transparent yet in mist. She walked like a zombie with a mysterious jist.

Alone she entered that forest into an isolated camp. She feared no forest, no dark vamp. She was the nature and the nature was she. She was the universe –a cosmos so free. And there inside the arms of night – slept that soul so bright – as if entering the arms of her beloved –there she slept in that cosmos as bed.

written by - Mystical Wanderer