Refuge

One by one along the descent of time
A past undone, for a present sublime
A trust won, then the evident crime -
The pain and then, to the next refuge.

They all speak the same words sweet
You get weak and the words repeat
Twist and tweak, inch towards deceit -
The pain and then, to the next refuge.

The best of races, the spotless breed
The sacred places of a useless need
Fake embraces and the endless greed -
The pain and then, to the next refuge.

Smiling coexistence of an assorted mix
The fabled tolerance, flouted ethics
Practiced pretense, and inherited tricks -
The pain and then, to the next refuge.

Inseparable ties that bind the unknown
Truth in lies, you find, you're shown
Suppressed sighs - the grind, all alone
The pain and then, to the next refuge.

Now I'm blind in your charm unseen
In you confined, on your arm, I'd lean
You're kind, I know, no harm you mean
But please don't be my next refuge.

Days of Dreams

A horizon where it's ever-sunset
I love the hues of crimson-spill
Sprinkled stars, I'd not forget
Around the moon, atop the hill
Drawing us in silver clouds, I
Bring them close, and up we rise
No one stops, or asks me why
When I dream, with open eyes.

A field spread out, like your arms
A breeze, of your breath, is made
The cloudy eyes, all their charms -
In the sleepy cool of a maple-shade
A cradling branch, a redbird sings
It chirps for you, never again flies
I just see these same, few things
When I dream, with open eyes.

Unsolved Mysteries

The mind of the poet is a minefield - of the creative kind. There are wannabe poets who want to write (if you browse through the archives of this blog, you would surely know one :D). And then, there are poets who came down straight from the endlessness of the sky, wrapped in gloss and tied with a red ribbon. I do not want to name any of them - the list will be unending even with my limited exposure. Each time I discover a new one in that class, I just feel too much contented and happy. For the fact that such people exist, whose minds sparkle with thoughts off the beaten track. We can never get into what goes on inside, but are still fortunate to marvel at what approximates on paper. You know such a person through simple lines put in such a way that eludes all sort of commonplace connections - for a poem is not just rhyming lines. Just imagining myself trying to write something depicting a similar emotion; and all I am left with is an amazement that has no answer, as to what can make a mind think like that.

A rambling post after a long hiatus - but I just had to write this short note after I heard Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan singing:

Teri ummeed tera intezar jab se hai
Na shab ko din se shikayat, na din ko shab se hai

Glorified Tears

You need not be tearful when talking about tears. Poetry - the traditional and old-fashioned type is what I like - has this uncanny ability to turn the most depressing emotions sweet. This song from Naya Kanoon is one such example; it keeps talking about the tears without a mention of the crying. Hasrat Jaipuri shows us why lyricists of the golden era were poets as well. Madan Mohan keeps his musicians off this track to give the total attention to the lyrics. They had to resort to - no surprises here - Rafi Sahab to deliver the goods.

Here goes the words -

Unhe qissa-e-gham jo likhne ko baithe

To dekhe kalam ki rawaani mein aansoon

Ye anmol taare, ye ulfat ke moti

Unhe humne bheje nishaani mein aansoon...

Unhe hum kahaani sunane na paye

Unhe daag dil ke dikhane na paye

Ye aansoon hamare bade kaam aaye

Zubaan ban gaye be-zubaani mein aansoon...

Na samjho ke aansoon hai gham ki kahaani

Ye aansoon hai ulfat ki pehli nishaani

Muqaddar ke qaatib ka kitna karam hai 

Ke likkhe hai meri kahaani mein aansoon...

Zamane mein taqdeer sab ki judaa hai

Tujhe kuchh mila hai, mujhe kuchh mila hai

Udhar hai teri zindagi mein khushiyan

Idhar hai meri zindagi mein aansoon...

Unhein qissa-e-gham jo likhne ko baithe

To dekhe kalam ki rawaani mein aansoon.

Still marvelling at - zubaan ban gaye be-zubaani mein aansoon!

Choices

Browsing on, then talking trite
Over tasteless teas and coffees
An extra week off, without pay?
There's more to life than office.

Popcorn and coke; weekends
With have-been's and to-be's
A good book that you read - can you say?
There's more to life than movies.

Move your body and spill your drink
So much white in your cigarette stub
Ever stopped by, as children play?
There's more to life than the club.

The years pass by, and wink at Time
You still feel it can't get better
Then, the end comes blocking your way
There's no more life - to live later.

Elixir

Gathering moments I passed the days
Alone, quiet - in the maddening crowd.
The TV and mind both kept on mute
Wordless thoughts blared in the nights.
Lullabies of the first sunrays
Brought to life, the world around.
More in trance than strength I walked
Blinded by the soothing lights.

Frivolous talks and vacuous smiles
Translated to happiness for one and all.
My self was left to but, myself
Sponging tears, lest they spread.
Yet far away - across thousand miles
Was the bloom of spring, to my wintry pall.
My spring of life, I drank unpaused
Albeit in dreams, while tossing in bed.


The pains slowly started to please
Sobs were showing up as grins
As I knew that day was close
When I'd be back to where I belong.
The fervent prayers began to cease
But hopes were kept, by all means
The Almighty showed all His might, but
Back I came to life, before long.

A single, soft hand in my hands,
A relentless heart that doubles my beats
Two more eyes to see me through
As I sleepwalk through the dunes of death.
As He looks down on the endless sands
And in a hurry flips the piles of sheets
Stopping on the page He wrote my life
To erase and re-write in bated breath.