Friday, 9 July, 2010

मैं जीवन के गीत रचता हूँ...

काली रात के कपाल पे, मैं भोर की लाली मलता हूँ।
मुझे भय नहीं मृत्यु का, मैं जीवन के गीत रचता हूँ।
मैं नदी हूँ, मैं पवन हूँ, अपनी मस्ती में रहता हूँ।
सन्नाटे उद्वेलित मुझे हैं करते, मैं विप्लव का पूजन करता हूँ।
तुम सिमटे चार दीवारों में, मैं उन्मुक्त गगन में उड़ता हूँ।
तुम्हे मंजिल की अभिलाषा है, मैं पथ का वंदन करता हूँ।
तुम्हे चरम सुख की तृष्णा है, मैं हंसी ठिठोली करता हूँ।
तुम मुझपे हँसते हो , मैं तुमपे कारुण क्रंदन करता हूँ.....

Thursday, 8 July, 2010

It's raining outside...

As it rains, I see your face in the tiny drops,
I feel your touch, as each drop hits my palm,
I try to hold , but it flows down as soon as it pops
I feel the emptiness, Lifeless like a haulm

Slowly it starts to rain heavily outside
The lump in my throat increases in size
The sound on the window pane, sounds like your giggle,
My heart pounds in expectation, I stumble as I jiggle

I lean outside my window, I shout your name,
There is no response, just the sound of the rain
The rain keeps on pouring, My heart aches I feel the pain
The drops falling in my mouth, remind me of our first kiss,
I yearn for those moments , Moments of love and bliss

It’s pouring heavily, the droplets have grown big
I feel the pain on my face, as each drop hits
I close the window, stand motionless, stand dead,
Tears are mixed with the water flowing down my head

My phone rings, keeps on ringing for quite a while
I hold the chair to keep the balance, I open my misty eyes
Are my eyes playing a trick, or It’s really you on the other side
My heart skips, my throat dries, as I hear your gentle voice
I cry as I hear you say, “It’s me and it’s raining outside………”

Tuesday, 13 April, 2010

इन्तजार ..

आ भी जा अब, कि सांझ ढलने को है,
तनहा रात का सन्नाटा, मुझे डंसने को है,
मेरे माझी तेरे दीदार को तरसा बहुत हूँ मैं,
इक दरस कि प्यास है, प्यासा बहुत हूँ मैं।
बेवजह बहुत चला हूँ इस लंबे सफर में,
तू हाँथ मेरा थाम के, कोई तो वजह दे।
खो जाऊं इससे पहले तू थाम ले मुझे,
कहीं बदल ना जाए ये सफर सिफ़र में।
आ जा कि अब तो सांस भी मुश्किल से आ रही है,
उम्मीद भी अब मुझसे दामन छुडा रही है,
बुझने को है अब, ये चिराग आस का,
रिश्ता बड़ा अजीब है प्यासे से प्यास का,
कुछ तो सिला मिले मुझे मेरे इन्तजार का.....

Sunday, 11 April, 2010

Nothing else matters..

Nothing else matters gal, Nothing really does..
You are the one, I look upon day and night,
You are the one I have been searching for,
In the burning heat, in the winter chill,
drifting, wandering all this while
In my heart I know it’s you, and only you
Nothing else matters gal, Nothing really does..

I have been tried and crucified, scarred, bruised and torn,
But I kept it alive, endured with my heart, and never let it worn
I am elated my faith is justified, You are the one, I dreamt all along..
I want you to know, I have been waiting for long
Nothing else matters gal, nothing really does..

Lend me a hug, a tender kiss, and fit your fingers in mine,
Lean on me,Hold me close, like bells and chime.
Come close, look at me with your hazel eyes,
Let the time stop & moment freeze in time
I want you to know,I think of you, and only you
Nothing else matters gal, Nothing really does..

Saturday, 10 April, 2010

It's you

I don't promise you sky, nor the brightest stars.

I don't promise you jewels, nor even the luxurious cars..

I offer you my love, my trust my heart my soul..

I am no God but a mortal,

I don't promise you anything but my love..

I know you don't feel the way I do,

but day will come when you will too..

I will wait and wait all my life for you..

I want you to know what you mean to me,

I think of you and only u in my day and night,

Time has lost its meaning, and so has miles

Its you and only you in my heart in my eyes..

If you can, then trust me for a while,

I wanna hold you close to my heart,

with your hands fitted in mine...

I promise you my love today tomorrow and thine.

I have faith in my love, and you too..

If some one is made for me I am sure it's you


Monday, 1 March, 2010

Thursday, 11 February, 2010

Father Forgets

First time I read these lines I cried, I have read these lines 100 times, but every time i read them i get emotional..A masterpiece by W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son:
I am saying this as you lie asleep,
one little paw crumpled under your cheek and
the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead.
I have stolen into your room alone.
Just a few minutes ago,
as I sat reading my paper in the library,
a stifling wave of remorse swept over me.
Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking,
son: I had been cross to you.
I scolded you as you were dressing for school
because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel.
I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes.
I called out angrily
when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too.
You spilled things.
You gulped down your food.
You put your elbows on the table.
You spread butter too thick on your bread.
And as you started off to play
and I made for my train,
you turned and waved a hand
and called, 'Goodbye, Daddy!'
and I frowned, and said in reply,
'Hold your shoulders back!'

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon.
As I came up the road I spied you,
down on your knees, playing marbles.
There were holes in your stockings.
I humiliated you before your boyfriends
by marching you ahead of me to the house.
Stockings were expensive -
and if you had to buy them you would be more careful!
Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember,
later, when I was reading in the library,
how you came in timidly,
with a sort of hurt look in your eyes?
When I glanced up over my paper,
impatient at the interruption,
you hesitated at the door.
'What is it you want?' I snapped.
You said nothing,
but ran across in one tempestuous plunge,
and threw your arms around my neck
and kissed me,
and your small arms tightened
with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart
and which even neglect could not wither.
And then you were gone,
pattering up the stairs.

Well, son,
it was shortly afterwards
that my paper slipped from my hands
and a terrible sickening fear came over me.
What has habit been doing to me?
The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding
- this was my reward to you for being a boy.
It was not that I did not love you;
it was that I expected too much of youth.
I was measuring you
by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine
and true in your character.
The little heart of you
was as big as the dawn itself
over the wide hills.
This was shown by your spontaneous impulse
to rush in and kiss me good night.
Nothing else matters tonight, son.
I have come to your bedside in the darkness,
and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement;
I know you would not understand these things
if I told them to you during your waking hours.
But tomorrow
I will be a real daddy!
I will chum with you,
and suffer when you suffer,
and laugh when you laugh.
I will bite my tongue
when impatient words come.
I will keep saying as if it were a ritual:
'He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!'

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man.
Yet as I see you now, son,
crumpled and weary in your cot,
I see that you are still a baby.
Yesterday you were in your mother's arms,
your head on her shoulder.
I have asked too much, too much, yet given too little of myself. Promise me, as I teach you to have the manners of a man, that you will remind me how to have the loving spirit of a child.