Archive for ‘4. Poetry (English)’

July 31, 2016


Am a surreal dream

in a sleepless night

of a painless sorrow


like a open wound


will take forever to form

the window,

still seems to be warm

from the lovely embrace

the rest of it

has fallen apart


fallen into a pit

your arms

the only piece of warmth

i have forgotten

road is all I remember

the window opened on

I looked out of the house

and met the star

you are also looking at

yes we meet again

years have passed us by

am going back to sleep

you can keep looking on




there are no tears when I cry

and no sound when I howl

even I don’t know when I lie

the white bird on water has drifted away

a large hole is there in the sky

am holding a plant, it is too small

ground shakes every awhile

and there comes the marching army

foot soldiers going past the town

the flower looks at me and smiles

ocean has begun to swell

a water balloon has burst

and we all are getting washed away

all the volcanoes have melted away

the sea is full of vegetarian sharks

it is the grass am afraid off

the sun shines between the water

and am holding onto its image

it surely is going to keep me warm


दिल के कोने में बर्बादी का टुकड़ा
और ज़हन में जन्नतों का नक्शा


कोई बादल नहीं आसमां में मेरे नाम का
ज़मीं पर वृछ नहीं कोई मेरे नाम का
समय के तालाब में जब हाथ मैंने डाला
कोई मछली नहीं थी उसमें मेरे नाम की

परछाई नहीं थी, आकार नहीं था
अदृश्य नहीं था, कुछ भी साकार नहीं था
था एक वृत्त, कोई शुरुआत कोई अंत नहीं था
था एक सत्य, जिसके होने का कोई प्रमाण नहीं था

वोह पगडण्डी देखते हो
उसपर चलती पदचाप सुन सकते हो तो सुनो
कहो, चिल्ला-चिल्ला कर अपनी बात
और सन्नाटे में पसरा हुआ झूठ अपना सकते हो तो चलो

अब ये दुनिया कहती है की आ मेरी गोद में आजा
अन्न का दाना वृछ बन नहीं सकता
दिया कितना भी जल ले, उजाले से लड़ नहीं सकता
अँधेरा है वजूद मेरा, अँधेरा बिन जले रोशन है
दिया है पर चुप रहता है, यही उसका अस्ल है



August 9, 2014

Its a dreamy afternoon
there is a little bit of light
and there are lots of shadows
there is a man with me
but he seems like lot much more

i can see myself being awake
but it seems i am in a dream
what is real and what is dream
i dont know for m such a dreamy girl

if it is a dream i dont want to get up
if I am awake I want to go back to sleep
whatever it is i dont want to get out of
this beautiful dreamy afternoon



August 1, 2014

Am I writing you

or you are shedding me

Am I killing your memory

or you are evacuating me

Am I living in you

or you are dead in me

Am I burying you

or you are gonna keep me alive

you exist because of me

or I do, of you

is there a land

where twain can meet

oh, do not leave me

because you complete me

May 7, 2014

Would tomorrow be just another day…

Today seems to be an ugly day
the sun has crumbled
blackened and brittle

the river has dried
star fish licking its bottom
unable to move
unable to move

today is an ugly day

the sky i had touched
yesterday, from between my fingers
it has lifted its covers
and gone far ahead

it was but a traitor
another one of conspirators
it stands afar now
with a cup of smile
filled with scorn and smug

today was an ugly day

the night has come
with a tattered blanket
and huddle i must under it
patches of my thighs exposed
my toes stritting out

today has been an ugly day
would tomorrow be just another day

January 24, 2014

they think I am a great guy
but I am just another fucked up guy
the guy who pisses upside down
the guy who drinks water lying down
ya, ya, yep yep, you got it right
mate, you too are another fucked up guy

lets meet friend, lets become buddy
we will make a club together
you will be president and i shall be treasury
membership shall be free and you can leave anytime
for fucked up guys know it not
once u r fucked there is no going down
you are fucked up for the rest of your life
that you know it not keeps you fucked up alright
we all shall gather near the sea
we will take our pledge while we all pea

open ur shirt and look iniside
does your heart pumps and veins subside
yes yes yes if it is so
break through all your buttons and shout
I am I am I am a fucked up guy
Punch your palm on your face and
throw your head over a stone
let your blood drip and color the stone
then sit over it and see if you begin to laugh
and then you would know for sure
that you are not just another fucked up guy
you are fucked up because you were meant to be
you could have been nothing but a fucked up guy
for no one makes a fucked up guy
he just find that he always was
just another fucked up guy

don’t trouble others don’t get lost
there are no signboards for you are no lost
you are fried just one more fucked up guy
take a trip go whichever way
jump into the sea or stand in the middle of the road
just don’t keep sitting by the sides
and you shall soon see
all you meet all you see
are people afraid of a fucked up guy
and just keep running away from them
running to where they would not be
and you shall reach a desolate corner
over a fire of straw you shall find
huddled together a curious bunch
they look soiled their teeth are dirty
but they smile alright and keep grunting
they all lokk like carrying a bundle of pain
but they all seem so happy as if devil may care
and you would find you find them so nice
you miss no one you miss nothing anymore
you sit among them and you no more realize
it is where you belong it is where you were meant to be
for this is where those live
whom the wolrd calls a fucked up guy


जब दिल टूट जाता है तो आंख हंसती है
जो रो के ना कह पायी वो हंस के कहती है

January 6, 2014

children of the dark
don’t fret, don’t fret
for the dark is not without you
it is with you
you are dark within and without
you are dark withit and without
it is part of you
it is you
it is living with you
it is traveling with you
it is becoming you
to save you from becoming you
you the fearful one
you the scarecrow one
you with blood having gone dark
you with eyes having gone blind
you with ears hearing only mindless screams
you with lips perspiring with sweat
you with not a single bone steady
you with unsteady steps
you with joints crackling at each step
you you you
you that can not exist a single moment of existence
you that can not stand a single beam of light
you that shall melt with a single drop of rain
you that shall freeze with a flash of fire
you whose throat chokes, whose nerves go awry
you whose lungs pump out only blackened ash
you whose mirror shows decade old picture
you whose skin has grown dark patches
it is you that the darkness came to serve
for the darkness knows
only the dark can save the darkness
the dark beam travels not through light
but through a shade so thick
that it filters the light out
and just know
yours is a dark destiny
for you are dark
it is not dark that is traveling with you
that is being with you
that is keeping itself with you
it is you that has turned dark
it is your own shade
that has fallen upon your former self
taking it under its hold
imprisoning it between its palm
cupping it between its fingers and the floor
from wherein it shouts
it screams and it boggles
it jumps and hangs itself over the large dark blistered fingers
it bites so hard over the edge of the palm
that the dark you had to shrug it off
and it got a chance to escape
and you ran behind it
not to catch it again
not to imprison it again
but to quash it once and once for all
to let it breath no more
to let it exist no more
for you are clever enough to know
that a clever and perseverent enemy shall not persevered with
for it shall find its chance
it shall wait till its day
and then it shall come with heavy vengeance
with a mighty carvan whose dust shall be suffice
to choke you to death
and then it shall not let you surrender
that then it shall have no mercy
and it shall slay you with one stroke of sheath
and to not let that piece of destiny exist
you shall have have to quash it right now
and you smash it between your fingers
and you rub it within your palms
and you are assured that it is no more
but it has slipped from between the dug of your fate lines
and it has made way out of you
and it is lying on the floor
its leg crippled but its soul breathing fire
and it is telling itself
that it shall bounce back
that it shall come back again
that it shall fight you one more time
and this time it shall come as mighty as you
and that you shall wait for the day
just as it does wait for the day
and I am watching you two
and waiting for that day to come
for it is in the aftermath of the day
that I shall know
which part of the destiny is mine
and till that day I shall have to
side with the dark
and live with the dark
be the dark and be within the dark
till then I shall have to be the dark spot
lying behind when all has turned bright
sitting behind leave, climbing up the tree’s bark
knowing I am not dark but I will have to be dark
and when anyone asks I have to say slyly
I am the dark I am the dark
and hoping that she can see
I am not the dark
I am sitting behind the hole in the dark
behind which there all is dark
and I am sobbing and I am crying
and I am shouting every now and then
I am the dark I am the dark
while I should be saying
I am in the dark I am in the dark
save me protect me
come and take me
for I am in the dark
but all I am able to whisper is
that I am the dark
for I have livd here for so long
that I don’t know clearly anymore
if I am in the dark
or I am the dark
I am the dark


एक मेढक की तरह कूदे
एक कुयें से दूसरे में
एक छेद से तीसरे में
कीचड़ से कबाड़ में

लोग पैदा होते हैं, लोग मर जाते हैं
सुबह पानी पीते हैं
शाम को मूत के सो जाते हैं

जाकर बड़े शहर में कौन खुद को खो दे
हम तो छोटे शह्‌र में ही खुश हैं ग़ालिब

तू ना सही तेरी जुस्तज़ू के काबिल रख
अपने दीवानों में हमको भी तू शामिल रख़
हाथ ना लग पर आंख से ना ओझल हो
मौत ना सही पर ज़िंदगी के तो क़ाबिल रख़

चंद घंटन की चाकरी और चंद हज़ार रूपये
रोटी तो स्वाद है मगर पिसाई बारीक है

सुलगती बातों के मद्धिम अहसास
ये बुझ जायेंगे इनको हवा दो
मेरी सासों में घुल रही हैं चिंगारियां
आग लग जायेगी इनको दबा दो

December 31, 2012

I wish I was free
of myself. of my longings
of need to be, of want to become
of wanting to explore
of wanting to sit still
I wish I was free

There is no end
to this existential angst
you keep doing
keep making yourself
keep defining, keep constricting
keep forming yourself
and keep turning into a slave
slave to yourself, to your image
to the mirage of yourself
to the thousand desires
and infinite pangs
to the ideas of future
of the shards from the past
searing through your present
leaving you withered
turning you into a whorehouse
robbing you of yourself
you the rapist, you the victim
you the desecrated
you the doer, you having been done with

chanting all along
I wish i was free

May 27, 2012

All I can tell you, is where I come from
And I can tell you where all I have been
And may be I can say, why I was there
But I can not tell you how I reached here
For I do not know, I didnt mean to be here
And do not ask me where am I going
I will reach somewhere for I would be walking
And when I have reached I would be able to tell
where I come from, where all I have been
but wont still be able to tell
how I reached there

May 23, 2012

Mad guy…

mad guy
where are you
in this shallow world
it is so easy to be a mad guy
I am one
I am a mad guy

it doesn’t take much
to be a mad guy
all you need to do
is to keep saying aloud
I am a mad guy
and they would believe you
that you are a mad guy
you know why
because they dont even know
what it means
to be a mad guy

May 15, 2012

pigeons sat over the wire
two men looked down their roof
the watchman lay on the charpoy below
I moved my lips as he moved his hands
the tea vendor brought out his stove
it was to be a few minutes before tea boiled

the room was empty, the cot was still
putting shoes on I went downstairs
a milky white day had begun to come out
the man with greying hairs, combed neatly
sat near the khomcha, I stood leaning over a car

tea was poured, to begin each’s day
the man with greying hairs went for labour
the tea vendor touched the money to his forehead
I stood a while looking in the distance

the watchman still lay over his charpoy
I climbed up the stairs, huffing and puffing
lying on my bed, coming back to myself
thinking of the day, of where am I in it

nothing much had been brought over from the night
nothing much was told out of room’s window’s sight
nothing much was there in the day to delight
I got up, thought of the tea, and began to write