Sunday, 23 March 2014


क्या  लिखूँ,
क्या  लिखूँ  मैं  तेरे  हुश्न  की  तारीफ  में । 

पंछियों  की  चहचहाहट  हो ,
बहते  पानी  की  गरगराहट  हो ,
खुदा  की  तालीम  कोई  कलमाह  हो ,
मोहब्बत  नाम  का  एक  इलज़ाम  हो । 

क्या  लिखूँ,
क्या  लिखूँ  मैं  तेरे  हुश्न  की  तारीफ  में । 

बच्चे  की  हँसी  सी  पाक  हो ,
शबनम  में  भीगी  हुई  रात  हो,
आइना  हो  कुदरत  के  ख़ज़ाने  का ,
इल्म  हो , रब  की  इबादत  का । 

मीठे  झरनों  का  तुम  संगम  हो ,
बांसुरी  से  निकलती  हुई  सरगम  हो ,
पत्तों  की  नरम  सी  छाँव  हो ,
सर्दी  की  पहली  सुनहरी  धूप  हो । 

क्या  लिखूँ,
क्या  लिखूँ  मैं  तेरे  हुश्न  की  तारीफ  में । 

शायर  की  सोच  उसकी  कलम  हो ,
फूलों   पे  बैठी  नादान  सी  तितली  हो ,
तेज़  से  जिसके  सूरज  भी  पिघला  हो ,
बादलों  में  जैसे  इंद्रधनुष  निकला  हो । 

बरसात  में  नाचता  मोर  हो ,
ख़ामोशी  में  डूबी  हुई  शोर  हो ,
खोये  हुए  मुसाफिर  की  तलाश  हो ,
शायद  किसी  काफिर  की  नमाज़  हो । 

क्या  लिखूँ,
क्या  लिखूँ मैं तेरे हुश्न कि तारीफ में । 

रेतीले  सागर  की  प्यास  हो  तुम ,
आँखों  से  बहता  ज़ज़बात  हो  तुम ,
एक  आशिक़  की  तड़पती  बेक़रारी  हो  तुम ,
नज़ाकत  से  रुबरु  एक  दुल्हन  हो  तुम । 

अण्डों  को  तोड़ती  हुई  ज़िन्दगी  हो ,
एक  माँ  की  अपने  बच्चे  से  नाराज़गी  हो ,
ईमान  साथ  नहीं  देता  मेरा  कहने  को ,
कोई  और  नहीं  तुम  ही  मेरे  खुदा  हो । 

तू  ही  बता ,
क्या  लिखूँ  मैं  तेरे  हुश्न  की  तारीफ  में । 

Friday, 21 March 2014


There are very few people in this world that you care about not because they are your good friend but because you are a fan of their personality. They are not perfect in any sense yet a complete individual. They are manipulative, selfish, yet they give you moments which you cherish much more than any other. This is dedicated to one of those. A story of a very powerful girl.

I am a girl. Now you would expect me to shout my problems on you. The problems I am too scared to say in public so I prefer to scribble and outcast my anger with it. No, I will not keep calm and stay quiet. I have self respect and I will fight for it. If you don’t let me live with honour I will gift you your rules and make my own.

I am not scared of the so-called society. The society is nothing but 1% of those who thinks it is manly to suppress girls and 98% of those who are too scared of those 1%. I love to be unpopular and called names and things than to live with fear and scarcity. This scarcity is not of love or money but freedom. The freedom of flying like an eagle, irrespective of any boundaries or boundations.

I party out with guys, and have a night out with them. I drink, booze and smoke. I wear short pants, show off my legs and try hard to steal the attention of my crushes. I have got friends. A lot to say and very few to count. Some say they are my friends and would spend a lot of time with me. Every occasion they would be the first ones to wish and would even bring gifts. But I know they are only with me because I am a pretty girl and also because I am of the weird types. They can boast about in their circle to have booze and night out with me. They love to upload pics on facebook with a hand on my shoulder which would make them look like a dude. Some of those had even higher expectations. Some days it’s really tough to find a real shoulder for a drop of tear.

But I never cared. I am a strong girl, a brave one. If girls are below men then they can also take the benefits of these so-called men. I have used people and I am not ashamed of it. I try my way out of the rules and the boundaries. The names and negative fame works in my favour. I might not be the happiest person on this planet but I am one of those to have really lived it. I have walked alone at night on the streets of the rape prone city. I have hit boys straight on the face when they harassed me. I have got only male friends as girls can’t take a rebellion like me. I have been the inspiration of many girls who still don’t dare to take my path.

I was me until few days back. I lost the smile from my face. I was never very happy but atleast I had a genuine smile of living my life on my terms. It was Monday evening. The sun was still bright on the sky. I was there walking alone on the corner of a market place. It was not very crowded but still had a lot of people. A car stopped by my side and an unknown guy grabbed my hand. I shouted and people looked at me. The guy left me and the car rushed away. I didn’t know if they were trying to kidnap me or were just eve-teasing. I was not even able to have a good look at that guy with the sudden events. It left me scared. I had dealt situation with boys but no one tried to abduct me before. The people who stayed stunned now came running to me when the car was out of the sight. It went even more humiliating when one of the consolers tried to feel me rubbing my back.

I cried. I didn’t remember the last time if I had ever cried in public. It broke me. I couldn’t come out of my hostel for 4 days. I know it was my ego of being strong that I found it hard to share it with others. My friends gave a lot of strength and accompanied me everywhere. I needed faith but all I was getting was pity. I would have gathered my courage back but lost when you asked me to behave like a girl. I loved you primarily because you are smart but mainly because you understood me. Atleast I felt it till now. May be you even did, but you lost the fight with the society. You gave up on me and even stole my spirit. It was the last day when I had felt the fire in me. It has been some time and you must know that I love you even more than me. I would change myself to be with you. I thought for a long time and I think I should say it to you.

Being a girl is too tough in this society and life would be too boring without it. I know you can’t always be there to protect me and I don’t expect you to. All I needed was a belief on me. If you can’t give it to me that’s all right. We can break-up and I will take all the credits. It will even help me forget you sooner.

I am a girl and I know how it feels like to be one. If you can’t try to feel my pain just don’t give me your goddamn suggestions. I am not here to leave quotes or tell people how to live their life but I am sure of how I wanna have mine.

Friday, 14 March 2014

A photographer in love

Priya was an exceptional photographer. She had an amazing talent of capturing moments. She didn’t captured just faces but feelings. Every photograph of her clearly shouted the state of mind of the person. The silence of the painful and the joy of the laughter. She had many admirers but one was her personal favourite.

Raj was his name. A tall, dark guy with broad features and a double chin. He was not just a fan, a friend but her love. She felt immense pleasure clicking him. He would make faces and do weird stuff to let her experiment with him. He had a lot of friends still managed to spend time with her.

The only thing she hated was if she had to click him with a girl. Everytime a girl used to get closer to him it would burn her from inside. Every moment he placed his hand on a girl’s shoulder she had to face the agony of hitting the girl right on the face. She would let them take as little time possible and click the pictures within seconds. When he would praise the pictures her mood would brighten up. He had a weird sense of praising her. He would pour his feelings and grammar while praising her.  It would even make the writers steal his way of praising a skill. His almost every picture contained her name as the picture credits.

She had often thought of proposing him but never dared. He was always surrounded by the bunch of pretty girls trying hard to lure his attention to them. She knew she was beautiful but lacked attitude to compete with those dumb Barbie dolls.

Like every other night she was going through his photographs. She cried. She cried her heart out. It was just her pillow who felt the pain and got wet shedding the tears.  The moon was shining bright but was unable to erode the darkness.

Every picture of his had her name written in bold letters but none contained her in the frame.