Stories

I want to write
send words to unknown places
with rebellion on their lips
dare-devilry on their faces

Tell stories seldom told
but as old as the world itself
that tug and tear and heal
bring you closer to your self

I want to master feeling
spin joy -- distil pain
grow misery in my garden
make love fall and kindness rain

And yet I write not a single word
nope, I do not even try
my mind is that graveyard
stillborn stories go to lie

Still I wait in hope
that one day it shall come
that perfect little story
the plectrum to my hum

My own little story
that comes from deep within
and if you listen closer
the words pulse beneath my skin

Little Wild One

as you leap n crawl
in a bid to get ahead
these wings on your body
leave us in utter dread

you have ZERO fear
no absolutely none
no idea of the dangers
that lurk at every turn

but what a little fighter
a warrior through n through
no obstacle large enough
for teeny tiny you

we pad you with pillows
while you sleep (at last)
but you climb over those
n you clamber super fast

so we lay you down to sleep
on good ol' mother earth
but it's only cruising higher
that fills you with much mirth

it is with cheeeeky grin
that you pounce upon that wire
n never have i seen
such random desire

but as i gaze n gaze upon you
my muse my lil' fixation
you remind me of no less
than the human condition

us humans yo so stupid
we set our sights so high
we don't know how to do it
but we gotta bloody try

n i watch u with such pride
- that often turns into horror
at ur disregard for physics
my wild-hearted explorer

bloody grooves

he walked into the room
his eyes fell upon her
how does she always do this
he thought with some wonder

how DOES she whip up
such an un-holy mess
food wrappers laundry
utter slovenli-ness

she looked at him looking
and her eyes got lit
look at him sneering
that supercilious git

oh but they were in love
the rest of us say
how did this happen
n does it end this way?

how did sweet n sticky nothings
become cacophonous
who should we blame
who bears the onus?

well it's not THEIR fault
they started just fine
the very concept of cohabitation
is flawed by design

two people living
at such close quarters
the legendary loonies
fishing in troubled waters

it starts with the groceries
carries on with plumbing
and this house of cards
dun take too long a-tumbling

you say this he that
he that you this again
before long you act on instinct
drawing guns on count of ten

weary paths emerge
crissing n crossing deep
the garden is a cemetery
look, look, and weep

So all is lost is it
all love replaced by sorrow
i don't honestly know
ask me on the morrow

tomorrow always brings
promise on its wings
of impossible happinesses
and such delusional things

My feminism

My feminism is not a stop
It is a work in progress
It's a song half complete
Whose lyrics compound like interest does

And if you look deep
Into the nooks & crannies of my life
You'll find patches of unfeminism
Residual, layered, like limestone

I am learning
I am unlearning
It's a daily job
Not an easy one

So be kind dear sisters
When you notice my many flaws
If I were perfect
What would I have to live for?

My treasure

I have some treasure
As I walk around with it
I look around in guilt
Because only I have it

But it spreads riches
At whoever looks its way
And I see people look at us
With happy glances

I cannot be entirely happy
With this scheme of things
I haven't done anything to
Particularly deserve my treasure

The written word

लिखे हुए दो बोल वह बोल जाते हैं
जिसके लिए ज़ुबान कम पढ़ जाती है
काग़ज़ और कलम का रिश्ता उंगलियों से नहीं
वह राह तो मेरे मन से होकर आती है

Itne dinon baad

इतने दिनों बाद मिले
और ऐसे हैं हालात
की दूर दूर तक्क
कोई और नज़र नहीं आता

ज़माने बीत गए
तुमसे बातें किये
तुम तो वही हो
हमारा पता नहीं

बदले तो हम ज़रूर
तभी तो वापस आए
यह कहना तो गलत हुआ
की बदलना ही बुरा है

खैर अब जब हम आए हैं
मेरे साथ साथ ही रहना
अपना हर जज़्बात सुनाना
हर एक बात बताना

Gulzarish

कहानियों में पता होता है
जब कोई कुछ आखरी बार करता है
दिक्कत तो तब होती है
जब ज़िन्दगी से भी यही उम्मीद हो

i think i should write again

i think i should write again
if only to tell myself i still can
reverse that thing i said last year
no time now no time now

i think i should write again
to make sense of it all
a deep look at this person i am now
what do they call it - a mother?

i think i should write again
because today i read something
that made me feel some beauty
and i want to give back

i think i should write again
because i'm only half without it
and as we all know (or perhaps we don't)
half is nothing really