मोती सी

किसी सींप में रखी
मोती सी
रेत में दबी छोटी सी
मन ही मन चमक रही हूँ
इंतज़ार में
उस एक नज़र के
जो इस सींप पर पड़ेगी
और मुझको चुनेगी
शायद मुझे इस सींप से
बाहर निकालना चाहिये।

पर डरती हूँ
कहीं इस रेत के समुन्दर में
दब न जाऊं
कहीं ये लेहरें मुझे
ले न चलें
कहीं इस बड़ी सी  दुनिया में
मैं खो न जाऊं।

फिर लगता है
हमेशा बंद रहना
भी तो एक मौत है
उस एक नज़र का इन्तज़ार
जाने कितनी लंबी रात है।

पर सींप ने मुझे
संभाल कर रखा है
बहुत प्यार से
ऐशो आराम से
सरो-ताज बना कर रखा है।

पर फिर भी जाने क्यों
लुडक कर
बाहर भाग जाने को
ये जी चाहता है।
गर गुम भी हो गयी तो क्या
बंद ज़िन्दगी से अच्छी
आज़ाद गुमनामी को
ये जी चाहता है।

फिर लगता है
आज़ाद तो अब भी हूँ
सब सोच की ही तो बात है
ये प्यार और अदब
सब बस सींप के बस की बात है।

लेकिन बाहर निकली कहाँ हूँ
और फिर सोच सोच की बात है
जाने ज़िन्दगी कहाँ ले जाये
वो सब सींप के बाहर की बात है।

किसी सींप में रखी
मोती सी
रेत में दबी छोटी सी
मन ही मन चमक रही हूँ
इंतज़ार में
उस एक नज़र के
जो इस सींप पर पड़ेगी
और मुझको चुनेगी
शायद मुझे इस सींप से
बाहर निकालना चाहिये।

Another opening

The soul finds dead-end
Many a times.
The death of one self
The end of specific rhyme.
It seems like all is dead
The hard work seems wasted
Heaven causes wrath.
The best thing
about death
However
Is life.
That still survives.
The regeneration.
Back again -
To an upside ride.
So when one self dissolves
Worry not.
For though it dies
That one side
But the soul remains
Larger than life.
And soul
knows it Inside.

Where gypsy sits

Once everyday he visits
Those mysterious walls
Where gypsy sits.
He finds them all mystical
Every brick.
The breeze in her locks
Sings freedom to his ears.
Her confident voice
Give strength
To his tears.
He finds her unique
Her every word
The soul beneath.
Curiosity drives him crazy
Once every day he visits
Those mysterious walls
Where gypsy sits.

He visits for random reasons
Pretexts, excuses,
Different seasons.
He tries to lure her to civility
Just to get fascinated
By her wilderness
By her ethnicity.
More he tries to keep a check
More her aura causes heart wreck
She is peace and a storm
At the same time
Aah! Gypsy woman
And the wild rhyme.

Promises

Every night the water
Promises moon to earth
Beautiful, shiny;
It keeps changing shapes
Sometimes when it disappears
Earth gets afraid
For in the water
It seems so close
Her moon,
The one she chose
But water plays a trick in between
Giving earth something
Just to be seen.
She tries to embrace that moon
But it seems matterless
She seeks it all the more
For the moon laughs
Right on the shore.
But meet never happens
Just an illusion.
The love remains
So do the illusion.

To create

This deep felt thirst
This uncalled craving
To create
Create a new fondling.
In words, visuals, even colors
To fill life in the creation
With my genes smeared.
Or may be the heart
wants to feel
The post creation satisfaction
To see that baby
Vulnerable and alive
A social subtraction.
Won't I have expectations then?
Of a mother wanting her child
To be the best of them?
Like always
I see no comparison
No race
No me and them.
Why not adopt
Others' creation?
That's illegal
That is not the same stem.
So off I create
A new beauty
A novel jam.
This one is again a hybrid
Of thoughts and ideologies
Imagination and I.
It reflects me
A fragment of mine.

But the heart
it wants more.
Never satisfied in one
It never cures.
More creations
And more reciprocations.
Like a series of desires
The fire keeps thirsting for more.

Sometimes I wonder
Is there an end to it?
But it is more about the process
I feel
It is the thirst that is its beauty
The creation process
Along with creation of it.

So I dive into the ocean
Forming waves and rapids.
I form those abstract pictures
Amidst clouds
As I sit.
And in the breeze I find love
In water - the embrace.
The process of living,
The feeling to create.

This deep felt thirst
This uncalled craving
To create
Create a new fondling.

Amidst auctions and baits

Sale sale sale
People selling themselves
People buying people
There are auctions and baits
Judgements and debates.
Sale Sale Sale
Every breath is a commodity
essentials, life, name
Even entity.
So and so is this much
So and so is way much!
Parameters and comparisons
A constant race
The doomed phase!

Look! Look further.
It's a life, a person, a city,
dream, desire, hope, faith.
Look closer!
It's a wish, a belief,
Personality, grief.

Penetrate into the
cosmic psyche
The life beyond money
One cosmic entity.

Look closer!
It's futile.
The endless race has
A shallow prize.

All will then seem one
celestial beings, life around
Air we breathe, people we meet
Animals that seem on disposal
Nature that seems vulnerable
All will then seem one
Unsellable, invaluable,
Precious and one.

Yet the chains

On one hand its I
And the life that I admire
On another are people
Whom I love
And want to be with.
Even when I choose the latter
Well they are always busy.
But when I opt for former
There is guilt of missing them.
The Oppertunity cost
Seems love
When I choose myself
And the life I love.
The sacrifice of self
Is huge too
And it has been always
An eternal split
The push and pull.
Aah! If only
Teleportation was possible
Talent was valued
love was free
And time wasn't
Taken for granted.
But life is limited
Love has conditions
Jobs have limitations.
And happy moments
Are always rationed.
They say
It is all always balanced.
That laughter is always
Measured in tears
And love is compensated
With long lonely fears.
Aah! The Oppertunity cost
And this will of free life.
They say, we are born free
Yet the chains
Are eternally beside.

I feel beautiful

I feel beautiful
After a bit of pamper
The oiling and cleaning
I think more than the output
It is more about
The process in itself.
The moments spent
In loving oneself
Caressing
Feeling beautiful.
It's a wow feeling.
And I wonder
Why don't I do it
more often?
Why it's after years
That I remembered
Taking care
Of those small things
About me.
But that's what makes it
Special
This feeling of love
Being beauty.

Wo sab kiye

Ik arsa hua
Wo sab kiye
Jo kabhi har lamha
Hua karta tha
Wo shaqhs Jo apne they
Wo sarey sach
Jo kabhi sapne they
Wo fir shaqhs bn gye
Fir sapnon mein
Tabdeel ho gye
Waqt to chalta jaata hai
Saath behte hain
Log, yadein, batein.
Bahaut acha hona bhi
Koi bahaut achi baat nahi
Ya shayad bahaut achche
Hum kabhi they hi nahi
Ik arsa hua
Wo sab kiye
Jo kabhi
Har lamha hua karta tha.

Hours of emptiness

Hours of emptiness
In a Metro
Before sleep
Early morning
While waiting
For a news
Before a required call
In between
An interview.
Hours of emptiness
Like a vessel so full
And so empty
All at the same time
Sometimes
So full
Of that one thought
Sometimes Waves
Crashing from all sides
Hours of emptiness
So full of emptiness.

The journey

The journey
It's epic
random halts
Kick-ass rides
Conversations, experiences
The thrill
With localities.
Up it goes
The spirit
Down it is pulled
The ego.
The heart
It keeps dancing
On the magical beats
A freestyle prancing.
The journey
It's epic
And more beautiful
Is never the destination
But how
One reaches there.

Cycle

From there
Walks
a version
Of my past self.
The younger me
So happy
So free.
So proud.
Right between the trees
Out if the building
With dreads
With dreams.
Who knew
Years after
I will sit here
Remembering the past self.
And maybe
Years afterwards
I will once again
Return here
Right on this surface
Below these beloved trees.
And watch the evening lights
In the building of wisdom
Right opposite.
The time
It keeps rolling by.

Whatever happens

It always has a reason
Whatever happens
The good the bad.
We just don't see it
The value of it
At that moment.
And we crave
For something different
Something better
Or maybe just
We desire sometimes
To stop a moment
In eternity.
But everything has a reason
Whatever happens
Good or bad.
It helps us grow.
Reach beyond our vision
Beyond our limited perspective.
We just don't realise it.
But once the larger picture is revealed
Maybe years later
Or as we grow up
We do realise
That it always had a reason
Good or bad
Whatever happened.

~ Mystical Wanderer

Pink wall

Pink wall
With flowers n butterflies
A bright room
With Sun peeping in
A cup of coffee
With freshly brewed coffee
Between the warmth
Of my palms
It's a silent story
With hues of mild music
In background.
Keeping it all bright.
But the soul seems dead.
Like I should be happy.
But I feel numb.
Sobered.
Like the pink wall and coffee
Are just there
To become the contrasting
Opposite shades
To the inner state.
Pink wall
With flowers and butterflies.

~Mystical Wanderer

Comfort zones

Comfort zones
Who defines them?
Us? The situations?
Upbringing?
Limits we set for ourselves?
Maybe choices.
Willing decisions.
Growing out of them
Is fun yes.
But it is essential to decide
Which ones!!
But until you won't jump
How w would you know
The depth of the river?
The thrill in it?
What if it becomes a suicide?
What if it happens
The most amazing thing
You have ever come across.
The extremes are possible
In either directions.
In fractions
In fiction.
It's upto you
To decide
Which one to break through
From your intuition.
Comfort zones.
Who decides them?
We. For sure. Us. 

It comes to you

When you truly seek it
It comes to you
You just have to
Feel it
From the heart.
with purest of intention
With a peaceful attitude
Towards it.
With neither desperation
Nor indifference
But with right sincerity
And love along with.
When you truly seek it
It comes to you.
In the simplest of manner.
A sweet moment
A pleasure picture.

Empathy

He misbehaved
Maybe it was a reaction
Or hurt of an artist
Or ego
Of being rejected
Without even being given a chance
Or a frustration
Of something else
Upon someone else.
Or maybe it was the cosmos
Reverting back
My recent conduct
With so many
Where my intention was
Not to hurt
But the conduct was there
Equally bad.
He misbehaved
Without I seeing it coming.
Maybe I should have reacted
I usually do
For the sake of
Self respect.
But I somehow
Had pity there
Not anger.
And I forgave
And trying to forget
Through these words
In my poem.
He misbehaved
Being a stranger
And I am letting it go
Free flow.
For I saw a mirror image
I had empathy
And I have respect now
For every energy
Around
Is after all
Part of the same
Cosmic entity.
So I forgive myself
For my misbehaviour
We all learn
We are in the process of it
Isn't it?

How innocent

How innocent human kind is
Aah! That wonder stuck look
In the eyes of a just born
I wonder
How do humans learn
To poise that confidence
Of 'know it all'
Of existence
Of purpose
Of direction.
Are not these mere illusions
Imagined by each
For his own self.
For none knows it all
From where we came
Why we came
Or the purpose of existence.
And we keep generating babies
Dedicating our lives
To more lives.
Without knowing why.
I wonder!
Why?
Why continue?
Just for the sake of it?
Just because
It has been happening.
And we have built so many systems
Around us
To carry on the illusions
We keep getting duped in the
As we grow up
So much so
That we do get attached to it
Till we die.
Each is special to own self
When one is born
Dreams keep dissuading
Some do get fulfilled
But they remain
Materialistic
Even the other dreams
Are but desires
So limited to our circumference
To the level of our imagination
And we learn compromises and sacrifices
We learn how to get tangled
And untangled
And we keep living in illusions
Aaah! How innocent human kind is
Like that wonder stuck look
In the eyes of a just born.

And anger

I don't know
What fucks my mind
These days
Why do I so often
Simply misbehave.
I don't mean it.
No, or maybe yes.
Also possible is
That it is some repressed
Frustration.
A lot of it.
And anger
Upon things I can't help
People I can't change
Situations I can't create.
And I crave
To be free
Of all this gloomy attire.
It is more sarcasm that I have
And it is not at all healthy
It has a stingy fire.
I observe and detest
A lot many things
In my surroundings
In system.
I find faults these days
In things of past
In present class.
And I abhorr
The fecundity of emotions
I detest the society
And it's illusions.
I no more believe in my dreams
Maybe that is the most
Missed by my soul.
I miss myself
The happy me
The free self.

Numbing me down

I am loosing the sense of life
Bit by bit
I am hit by strife
It is numbing me down
This unseen hollowness
The dreams seem drenched
Rather they are amiss
Like they were never mine
Or may be
I don't believe them
Anymore.
For I have worn this cocoon
And it kills me
Every moment
And I die
Bit by bit
Every second
To months,
to an year.
I sleep these days
More often
Than my entire life
And I think
Absolutely nothing
Or if I do
It feels
Like I am pacing up
The drowning process
In a warm land of
Quicksand.
But the killing
It continues
I also feel the aging.
Tick tock
Tick tock
I roam in past
I hate this seizing.
And I have lost faith
In the future
I no more yearn
For past
The present too
Doesn't seem so
Happening
I feel the death
Taking it's toll.