When your only job is hunting for one

मेरे | म-नमे | जो | फू-टते | यह | शब्द | है मेरे | क-लमसे | वह | छू-ट ते  | वे | रक्त | के झ-रनो | पे | होस-वार | श्वेत |  पे  काव्य | की | क-लाकृति | है | खीं-चते

वन्दे वंदे वंदनम, केशाम करसी नंदनम? लालाटे यसी कुमकुम चंदनम, तदसी शक्त्या: स्पंदनम

The game is reaching its finale, as now is getting nower, The overt are falling over, while the covert are seeking cover. It is raining, like rivers falling from Heaven to heaths harried by a scorching Sun, Players who once drank player-blood are now teaming together in compassion. The omen infamous for sweeping a thousand lives, shadows the Earth once more, Powerful players have hidden in holes as the underdogs take to streets with furore, For, Now, presents the Ultimate Boss, who has an unfathomed spell in store, The underdogs howl in ridiculous scorn, as they welcome the Karmic hero from lore, The boss is an unexpected friend, omnipresently punishing the vermin they abhor, Them, whose incessant cheating messed up the game like last time, and the time before. The underdogs with wings learn that like their dreams, they too can fly, Rest with their team on terrains where enemy tanks once used to crush them by. The boss can't reach them, catch them or pitch them towards death, For h

मनुष्य स्वयं को भूलता चला गया, स्वयं के अहं में झुलता चला गया, जैसे जीवन का प्रत्येक पान खुलता चला गया, जीवन रूपी रस वैसे ही ढुलता चला गया। धर्म एवं कर्म के मध्य झूँझ गया इतना, क्यों के बदले क्या पर समय व्यर्थ किया कितना, परस्परता को अंतर मान जब चाहा विश्व जीतना, तब वही कुकर्म निरंतर फल बन, लगा उस पर बीतना । परमात्मा से भेंट के लिये किये अगणित यतन, दान कर लक्ष्मी का, सरस्वति के सुने कथन, अंग, वाणी, मुख, भाव के श्रृंगार में उपयोग किये अमुल रतन, आत्मा की शुद्धी एवं मन के श्रृंगार रस  का  यदी किया होता  जतन , तो जीवन का अंत मृत्यु लाती, न की ऐसा भयावय पतन ।

Jo woh Ram mera, to Raavan bhi mera, Jo paap hai, woh mera, to Paavan bhi mera, Yeh Greeshma hai mera, aur Saavan bhi mera, Samudra ka saara jal, aur Himaavan bhi mera. Sunsaan ran jo mera, to sundar Van bhi mera, Shant aatma meri, to chanchal chitvan bhi mera Manushya, tera tan yadi mera, to Man bhi mera, Jo tera kiya hua uphaas mera, to tera stavan bhi mera. Tujhe di vaani hai meri, to hai shravan bhi mera, Teri vibhakti hai meri, to bahulikaran bhi mera, Tera janm jo mera, to tera patan bhi mera, Jo tujhe mila parinaam mera, to uske liye kiya yatan bhi mera. Yadi tera ahamkaar mera hai, to tera naman bhi mera, Teri vidai bhi meri, aur tera aagaman bhi mera, Antariksh me behta aalok mera, to dharti pe pavan bhi mera, Aur yadi yeh Shakti hai meri, to Sri aur Brahman to mera hi mera!

कहीं ख्वाहिश, गम घेर             न ले चाहतें छेड़, जान झिंझोड़          न ले टहलते ठुमकते, डर ढूंढ            न ले तकिया थेला, दया धमकी न       हो ले प्रेम फलक बन भयानक मृत्यु न  हो ले यह राम लोभी वहशीपने से    न  डोले शूरता षडज होकर,   न इनसान को ले ----------------------------------------------------------- Ka-heen Kh-waahish Ga-m Gh-er                          na le, Ch-aahat Chh-ed, J-aan Jh-injhod                          na le, Ta-halte Tth-umakte, Da-r Dh-oondh                   na le, Th-akiya Thh-ela, Dha-yaa Dhha-mki  na           ho le, P-rem Fa-lak Ba-n Bha-yaanak M-rutyu na      ho le, Y-eh Ra-am L-obhi Va-hashipane S-e  na           do-le, Sh-oortha Sha-daj Ho-kar na                                  insaan ko le

Mera kuch nuksaan hua hai, mere shareer ka ek hissa aaj mujhse anjaan hua hai. Deewaane apna dil aur parwaane apni izzat kho baithte hai, saththaa kho baithe raajnetaa sarkaar se uska muaawzaa aithhte hai. Par mera jo khoya hai woh har haath ka ek angootha hai, tabhi to mere nuksaan ki maatra bhale kam ho par uska prakaar anoothha hai. Do angoothhon ke na hone se kya antar padta hoga? Mere uljhe hue is jeevan me itna naganya vastu kya mantar padhta hoga? Subah utthkar kiya gaya adhoora lagta naman, ya dantmanjan me kiya gaya anaavashyak shraman. Nivaale ko thaali se muh tak ke safar me hui pareshaani, yaa paani peene ke ek haath ke kaam me do haathon ki kahaani. Door khade dost ko “paanch mint thheher” bolne me mushkil, ya use yeh phone par soochit karne me hona naaqaabil. Dil me kitna kuch dabaye hue bhi use na likh paane ki niraasha, ya qaamiyaabi ki raah me aate hue imtehaan na likh paane ki hataasha. Shyaam ke waqt bansi ko hothon tak na laa paane ki bekasi, ya mridang ke naad me t

A homemaker, often a woman as per general norm, She, the one who makes the so-called house, a home. A job which is honorary to the literal sense, Is it that shallow to be paid in mere gold or that much dense?   The workers of this union are spread everywhere, One fulfilling her child’s dreams, one saving him from a nightmare. Best services delivered to people of all ages alike, Without any demand, protest or strike.   But strike, if they want; and that if they announce, “i won’t do it no more!” Is what they pronounce. A blasphemy, chaos, or a curse as some may say, A priceless possession lost, one servant down to the misogynist’s utter dismay.   No one to love, nor to care for, the world void of posterity, No one to feed a morsel of affection; the difference, now clear as clarity! Passion, respect, virtues, morals; all of their meaning obsolete, War, agony and envy, now roaming freely on the streets.   The wrath of time spares none, nor will this malignant strike, Arise! Now! Or this w

When I look up to the sky, I see clouds of despair; millions and black Thunderous strikes of lightning; invoking fear itself with every thwack! Wind upgrades to storm, and storm to inevitable death As Satan obliterates all hope, in one insidious breath.   The ghouls of devastation approach; riding their insane cavalry troops Their bloody hands slaying very existence, in infinite precarious loops! I no more see people, just faint shadows; hovering and whispering Defiantly cursing their bastard brothers; the spectres and their summoning.   Those ghastly devils; contempt, disdain, guilt and their diabolic allies Crushing all hope, cheer and bliss; yelling out chronically frantic cries! The earth is ripped apart, like flesh from a carcass; red and gore As it consumes everything that dwells on it, promptly and extempore!   The flame of hope is now fire; consuming its own existence, As all goodness has a price to pay; selling itself with zero resistance To the newly coronated rulers, who hav

There is noise all around; insensible chaos and mutter, The peace that I am looking for, slides away like butter. Harried and harassed, the souls around me scream and utter, My throat blocks my words, for all I can do now is stutter. Peace, a fortune reserved by those, who can neither talk or think, Unimpeachable creations of nature, those animals, paint their blackness, with this white ink. Though primitive, they easily cross the turbulence of life, while with all my intelligence, I abjectly sink, I search somewhere for a hand to grab, but now, even He, just smiles back with a wink. Recklessly and constantly acquiring, I forget to notice that, which He already gave for free, Failing to realize that, which dwells within, is what leads morosity through the path of glee. My conniving mind manifests thoughts, to appease my faculties; and is yet perfunctory, And I float away from the truth, for that which I now can see, is illusory. I look for catharsis, that of my deeds, which were once s

I give, but Never take, I live, but just for Their sake, I struggle, but Never cry, I try also to live, yet, I die.  I am Burnt, but I don’t mind, I see the worst of things, but still act blind, I sleep, but with open eyes, My soul is On Flames, my life, cold ice.  I am sold, but never Bought, I am lost, yet never Sought, I am beaten, by both men and fate, I am fed, with only abuse and hate.  Yet somehow, I console myself by saying, That I’ve been born into this world as a girl, and I cannot leave without Paying.

Listen to my call, oh doe-eyed one! oh evening's bliss! do come, Play your mellifluous flute to the melody that I cannot strum, Your shine brighter than the sun, your eyes darker than night, Blow your godly grace to me, and relieve me of my plight. Oh divine protagonist of Dharma! You are the master of fate and time, Come and save this Maha-Bharata from her childrens' crime, Your multi-temporal eyes see all that they did, do and contemplate, Their demons have outgrown them, leaving their souls in a frenzied state. Come oh slayer of demons! With your Chakra that shows the Virtuous Path, Pour some light into my childrens' eyes, so they can see the aftermath, Of the damage they are blindly causing, to themselves and their Mother, Show them the fruits of darkness and despair, of eating me to my core.  Come, oh rider of the Immortal Eagle, and with a gust of his wings vanquish, The toxic nonsense that lingers in the air that I can no longer breathe, Sprinkle the scent of wisdom

Once, they say there was a man, presumed to be a leader beyond compare Of people, to whom he promised, that days of light would ensue their night, And from the tyranny of the prevailing rulers, he would free them all. But Beware! Said some elders who smelled the spice in his talks, that which only added to their plight. But no heed did anyone pay, and appointed him as their leader, And he, under the guise of realizing promises, went on playing a different game. A game of control, rightly so, as he now began gardening people's minds, his ideas the seeders, And time did play its role, as those seeds sprouted, and the garden was now his to tame. Now the king, though self-proclaimed, he started bringing about change not wanted, That of currency and of loyalty, which shifted towards his bureaucratic friends, Who benefitted millions from this chaos, and market monopoly, they now flaunted, Whilst some struggled and others protested, but in this pandemonium only saw their ends. And now fin

Is there a debt to be paid? asks my mind, To all those who taught me how to survive and rise above survival, To those who gave me knowledge and helped many mysteries unwind, Who taught me an unbiased seeking of God, that Quran equals Geeta equals Bible. Is there a debt to be paid? asks my heart, To all those who fed me love and passion, so that I may grow kind, To those who did with me cry and laugh, painting my life into this gem of an art, Who taught me to love even the deaf and dumb, and who also taught me that love is blind. Is there a debt to be paid? ask my ears, To all those whose lulled me to slumber, and scolded me to the right way, To those whose joy was spoken by blissful kisses, and pain by doleful tears, Who taught me to applaud timbre and tune, and filter them curses to bay. Is there a debt to be paid? asks my tongue, To all those who moulded it to spew fire upon injustice, if not, immaculate gold, To those who wrongly earned my curses, and still were not stung, Who taugh

And here I am, sitting in a bus, en route to my college, The road is cold as is ice in winter, and is surrounded by dense foliage. Winter showers snow outside, but it is cold inside, both the temperature and atmosphere, For each life that travels with me, has its head hung, not at least in shame, or in at most fear. It is just a piece of technology has burdened their necks and deafened their ears, Some random smileys now define what used to be laughter, and the new God has dried up their tears. Each life has its own song to listen to, but has no story to tell, nor has it a talk to talk, And as the devotees have even offered their eyes to it, it is too dangerous for them to alone walk. Thinking so, I look out the window with eyes expectant, as I am now bored of seeing rocks, And shocked am I, by what I see! An emotional dilemma of dismay and elation does lock Me in stupefaction! For the exuberance I see is a deviant so drastic, A realm where love is absolute and unbiased, where no act i