All the time.

हलाल

तुझसे गुफ़्तगू में कुछ हलाल और कुछ हराम है,
कहतें हैं वो 
तेरी इबादत का तरीका 
क्यों किताबों से सीखूं में ?

...

दिन के ढलते ही एक याद भी आ जाती है 
दबे पाँव 
दरीचे होते दिल के तो कुछ देर हम भी बंद लेते

Lost II

Hold hands?
no leave the hand,
because holding hands
suffocates,
I lose track of the road
and I am forced to
walk on the one
you take me to
Don’t ask me for the last ride together
I won’t hold hands

Kiss?
No I won’t kiss
Kissing suffocates
I lose track of
time and space
and enter into a world that
doesn’t exist
don’t make me immortal with a kiss
I won’t kiss

Think?
No I won’t think,
thinking maddens,
it hampers and destroys the beauty
of the unknown
it kills the essence
of the surprise.
I can’t think now
I will think about it tomorrow.

Fly?
Yes I will fly,
fly to a different land
because flying liberates
I will fly from the known to the unknown
I’ll stick around for some time
only to take another flight
I will fly.

Lost

I am lost
Lost the way,
We're lost between
faces known and unknown
I smile, I cry, I shout, 
No one hears
I can't hear myself either.
Eyes up, eyes down, eyes rolling, eyes blurred
I see many
But I don't really see any
I am lost
Lost the way you're lost in a web of thoughts,
thoughts about the past, present and the future,
thoughts about the thoughts that I thought were long forgotten
thoughts about what is thought, who thinks, and why
Long thoughts, and short thoughts
thoughts that matter,
and the ones that don't matter,
shouldn't matter,
I am lost in what you conceive of me, and what I am, and what you've made of me

I am lost.
Lost the way you're lost in middle of a conversation
conversations that are cut short
and the ones that don't end
conversations that are all the same
since ages
conversations that do not have beginnings, middles or ends
conversations that lead nowhere,

I am lost
Lost the way you're lost in a moment,
a moment that is a mis of several other moments
a moment that may or may not lead to another moment
a moment that is just another moment
a moment that promises but doesn't return as much
I am lost.

I am lost but wait for me,
Wait the way you wait for a kid that forgets the way to home.
Wait, the way you wait for a letter,
that has long been sent through the post
Wait, and just wait.
I'll be home soon.

#Littlelovenotes

It was one of their late night conversations and she playfully asked him, 
"do you miss me?" 
He reverted in his usual calm, 
"Do you miss the night when it's day?
Do you miss sunshine when there's none?
Well then let me put it this way,
That within us we're always one"

Poetry Trails: #2 Then and Now

Poetry Trails is a “collective poetry movement” that I and a dear friend started a week back. It’s all about taking a poem forward or simply starting a new one with a similar theme, that is in some way related to the original one. In other words, if I write something, the other person can either continue with the same poem or write a quick response to it, or he/she can even give it an all new context and perspective. 

So last week, Sneha* updated Stars and I written by both of us, on her blog. And this week it’s my turn. If the poem moves anything inside you and gives you a motivation to add, invent, or experiment, go ahead and put it in the comments section. We’ll then add it to the original post. ;)

As of now, it’s I and Sneha. We don’t really need to know who wrote what, do we? ;-) 

That blank paper stares at me from a distance

With a pen in hand, I try to form the words

I still remember how easy it was once,

when I would write prose,

for you, for us,

I still remember how lovingly you'd read through

each line holding my hands tight giving a peck on my cheeks

We'd read all day long forgetting the time

absorbed in my words we'd dose off heads on shoulders..

But now…

the muse seems to have disappeared,

I don’t blame you for anything,

It’s not you, it’s actually us,
we’re forgetting something, I guess.

May be, just may be.

We’re forgetting to touch?

I think that’s what triggered the muse for me.
Remember the very first time

I cooked a meal for you,
I was all sweaty in the kitchen,

and you just stood by my side,

Occasionally tucking the strand of a stray lock behind my ear

and telling me stories,

I wrote about us that night,

and you spent the whole night reading and re-reading it,
Back then we were a different us

*Sneha is a super active fellow blogger who's blog you must check-out because she writes on a variety of topics. Check-out Indelible Musings. You must get familiar with her blog because the next Poetry Trail will be published there!