मेरी कविता

कविता एक दिन मेरे पास रोती बिलखती आयी
नज़रें उठाकर देखा तो चेहरे पर आंसुओं के निशान थे |

” क्या हुआ?” थोड़ा हड़बड़ाकर मैंने पुछा
” दिन तो बड़ा सुहाना है, पक्षी गा रहे हैं, भँवरे गुनगुना रहे हैं. यह कोई रोने का दिन है,पगली?”

” तुम अपने अर्फ हमेशा अपने पास रखे हो,
आशाओं निराशाओं को कैद रखे हो
यह सोचकर की कोई तुम्हारी कविता को पहचानेगा नहीं
संचित शब्दों के गीत को गुनगुनाएगा नहीं.
फिर कैसे पूछते हो की मैं नाराज क्यों हूँ
जिसका अस्तित्व तुम्हारे अंदर ही दबा है यूँ
वह इन वादियों का क्या करे?”

ऑंखें नाम मेरी भी हो आईं
सोचा क्या इतना खो गयी थी मेरी कविता
दुनिया की जदोजहत में?

जब नज़रें फिर उठाकर देखा तो सामने वही सुन्दर नज़ारा पाया
दिन सुहाना था, पक्षी गा रहे थे, भँवरे गुनगुना रहे थे.

कलम उठाकर जब स्याही की कुछ बूँदें कागज पर पड़ी,
कानों में कविता की हँसी की गूँज सी उठी.

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Lights and Lamps

I love festivals.

Albeit arbitrary dates celebrating occasions which may or may not have historical basis,they give you an opportunity to spend some time with your loved ones.

This rant has come forth due to the recent extravaganza of Diwali or Deepavali.

For the unawares-Deepawali is a festival held to commemorate the homecoming of Lord Rama,wife Sita and brother,Lakshman after their exile of 14 years. The entire town was decorated with lights and sweets were distributed by the villagers to celebrate the joy of seeing their beloved crown prince again.

So,coming back to the present, Diwali continues to be celebrated in the same way with lighting of lamps,sweets and prayers by people of all religions alike.

Children or even grown up adults in some cases burst firecrackers with beautiful visuals and too much noise.
Anyway coming back to me, I love how  Diwali looks and smells. I associate this fest with a bit of bite in the wind, and how the lights seem to trigger both the visual and olfactory senses. As soon as you enter the market, you can smell the blue and the red and the yellow, and it feels like a warm hug.

The diyas or earthen lamps are incredibly beautiful.I stopped bursting crackers years back and lighting diyas is my only joy on this day.

I cannot make rangolis (colorful drawings made through powder colors)-my mother and sister are the artists in the family and I don’t have a sweet tooth, but lighting lamps makes me feel as if I am adding light to the world.

And who can deny the need of that in the world we live in 🙂

Mud

 

 

IMG_8415.JPGAnd the mountains echoed
With the voices of those
who had left things behind

to leap into a valley of mist

to wake up to the sounds of flowing water

Water which seeped in into the ground
to wet the dry mud

and made one wish to walk barefoot
Close to the ground while floating with the clouds

Haze

I have been staring at this screen for a long time. My fingers hovering over the keyboard – hoping for a stroke of inspiration. An inspiration which would enable me to write words of beauty, words which would touch deep the souls of people and transfer my inspiration to them.

But all I got are sleepy eyes, a muddled head and a blank slate where there should have been life changing, quote-worthy words. I open my Facebook page on another tab and scroll through as If i expect something exceptional to have happened in the last 5 minutes since I checked in last.

I am not suffering from writer’s block. Just suffering from a “block” in my mind. A wall that is inhibiting any positive thought or any vigor in my life. I find happiness in small things- laugh with people,try to work efficiently even go out at times. But the fact remains that my mind feels like it is in a haze all the time. There is something missing – some secret ingredient (In spite of what Kung Fu Panda taught us).
Maybe it is the lack of direction or just some sort of young adult age angst. Maybe I see people around me achieving things and feel insufficient or maybe I just don’t know what I want to achieve.
And here comes the Facebook tab again.

Whispered secrets

IMG_0435

The soliloquy of the river
Discernible in the silence of the night

Whispering age old secrets of
The unloved lovers
The lost wanderers
The faithless believers
The broken healers

IMG_0498

All writings on the riverside sand
Washed away by the waves
Treasured within the infinite flow 
Offering solace to the future
Cherishing the memories of the past.