मुन्तज़िर (Awaiting)

ज़ीना ज़ीना उतर रही है रात

बुन रही हूँ रेशम ओ अतलस में टूटे हुए दिल की बात|

सबा के साथ गुज़रती है मौज-ए-दर्द-ए-फ़िराक़-ए-यार,

आज भी कर रही हूँ जल्वा-गाह-ए-विसाल में तेरा इंतज़ार|

तू नहीं तो ज़िंदगी में और क्या रह जाएगा,

दूर तक तन्हाइयों का सिलसिला रह जाएगा|

मैं कब तन्हा हुई थी याद होगा…

तुम्हारा फ़ैसला था याद होगा…

वो ख़त पागल हवा के आँचलों पर …

किसने तुम्हे लिखा था याद होगा …

मुलाकातें अधूरी रही,

मुकम्मल करुँगी ये वादा रहा…

तन्हाइयों से भी मैं तेरी,

बातें करुँगी ये वादा रहा…

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Wither

Dressed in a peacock blue saree, her glossy wavy hair subtly hanging at the ends of her shoulders, she wore a daunting red dot in the centre of her forehead. Wanting to be her best, for him. It was to be the end of that relentless waiting, that dreadful loneliness, when time had hung heavy on her, it was to be the end of it all.

There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison as theirs. They were meant to be together.

She had bought fresh garden orchids and had stacked them in the glass vase, they loved orchids. How, she remembered he would cheer her up with orchid bouquets whenever she would break down or get worked up! They would sway in the aroma of orchids all day all night, he would tickle her toes with the tiny buds and she would laugh her heart out. Soon their lips would clasp into a subtle kiss!

The sound of the doorbell excited her, she ran to the door, the sound of her anklets laden feet echoed in the whole vicinity, her heart beat surged up. She lit up all the chandeliers in the hall to welcome him back. Opening the door wide she found a letter saying – “I give up.” Where she thought of basking in his warm hugs, running her fingers through his hair, kissing every inch of his face; she was served with despair, beyond repair.

The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.

She stared at the letter in her trembling hands. The hands that he kissed now held the testament of his incapacity. A heaviness took over her, a heartache, a numbness. Under the shower broke out a river of tears from her colossal eyes, the Kajal smothered…dribbling down with tears.

It had been years now that the orchids had withered and she hadn’t disposed them off. Today another year passed and she again dressed up in that peacock blue saree, with a daunting red dot now on her wrinkled forehead, put on Kajal in her eyes with her trembling old hands, and waited for the doorbell to ring! Waited…under the Amaltas tree in her garden, among the autumnal winds, the summer sun, the swirling spring and the dying winter. She waited onto him. Waited with those dried buds of orchids in her aged palms.

They say with love comes longing! And a love even for sometime is enough to last for a lifetime!

And then he came….with the orchids in his hands and pain in his heart. At a loss of words! “Sorry” was all he could say and she was no more there to forgive him with that subtle kiss!

Melodic melancholy

Barefoot, I sauntered on the old, cracked wooden floor of the little deserted cottage that I had rented for a week in the unruffled backwoods of Dagshai. The morning mist collided with my face, with the gush of raindrops, numbing my nose. With no hint of morning sunlight, the fog grew denser and rested on my gossamer covered body. The frozen wind sat cross legged on my nape, and untied the knots of my hair.

And there was a sound…

A maiden voice, practising the morning Riyaz, the Farida khanum song woh jo Hume tumhe Qaraar tha….tumhe yaad ho ke na ho..” escorted by mild tabla flaps, along the wistful wailing of the melancholic flute. I could hear the subtle tinkling of her anklets and treading of her soft slumber feet. With the murmuring shadow of the intricate raag and riyaaz in that dark dawn, my oblique memories of you filtered.

Years ago when we were here, under the evening sky and the faint scent of the sultry air, resting together in the great lone hills in the storm filled weather, watching the skies as they paled and burnt. Under the shade of crimson dyed Palash trees, I rested my head in your lap, looking at your sunlit, passionate eyes, touching your roseate velvet skin, slipping into a brisk siesta. Waking up from which, I know not where you went! Maybe you hid yourself behind the branches of the Palash or went wandering alone in the woods…Or got lost in the hills somewhere, and you never came back…just never!

Now when I stroll in the Moreish calmness, amidst the squealing sound of towering pine trees, I feel your placental presence, your fingers locked with mine, your cologne mixes with the fresh roses in my hands, and walks with me to the cemetery, where you sprawl in the moist mud, recline in the turf of grass and whisper with the wind, lifting the strands of my hair and blowing soft kisses on my ear, giving me chills…still!

वो जो हममे तुममे क़रार था तुम्हें याद हो के ना याद हो
वही यानी वादा निभाः का तुम्हें याद हो के ना याद हो….

Here At dagshai, by your side, I too shall sleep, a sleep that lasts forever, too deep for dreams….in flesh and blood we couldn’t mingle, maybe among the shingles and mud our dust may mingle. I haven’t forgotten that promise! I wouldn’t!

Picture credits : Pinterest

My habitual dolour…

In the colossal depths of my reveries,

I see aches and wounds and filth,

My self stained with spleen,

And the rejections I’ve been blessed amply with.

Colliding with souls in haze and haste,

Do I know where I am destined?

My maiden thoughts about the world so chaste,

My doleful encounters doth have ruined.

Launched and lounged in another tale of woe,

My stories seem not to halt,

Inviting my sorrows for a hot joe,

For discussing a fair record of (my) faults.

Deserted I stand as the world paces,

Drowning in suffocating thoughts

I see all those masked faces

To loathe their unmasked self my words fall short.

Picture courtesy: tumblr.com

Grieving hopes…

The ghastly silent dawn would draw me closer to the window, 

Where I’d sit for hours sipping the hot joe.

Waiting for him to finish building castles in the clouds 

flying rockets and Inspecting planets around.

With his tiny feet he’d come running to me

Rubbing his eyes as if it was still too early!

He’d jump in my lap and close his eyes,

For a little more than a while.

That warmth would fill my chasm,

And I’d pull him even closer to my bosom.

And then his echoing footsteps in the bare room

Would wake me up only to worsen my gloom!

My barren body would plunge like a dagger in his back 

His gloom would deepen but I’ll always have his back!

The balmy days would receive us with a frown,

Our lukewarm glances would weaken us down. 

The file started to gather dust,

Stronger and staunch grew our mistrust.

We’ve draped the sombre dawns such, 

Because sometimes you can’t fight the destiny’s clutch!

Picture credits: tumblr.

Kaleidoscope of senses! 

I hear a thousand leaves fluttering as the wind blows them a kiss,

And the fallen leaves performing the same feat!

The earth’s tears make many people feel lighter! 

I see the flowers and feel earth exploding in laughter.

I see vivid emotions in the Hued sky,

And the silhouetted hills with a welcoming smile.

I hear the pages turning by themselves,

On the young writers desk.

I go closer and see the empty pages, 

‘Coz ahead of him still the whole life is waiting.

I see the sun always by the moon’s side,

Brings it to frame though it can easily outshine. 

Makes it shine much brighter as darkness falls.

That’s a love I desire for all!

I see the ripe fields swinging with a smile,

And the harversted ones standing upright.

Yes, because of the pride,

As they’ve given us the best they could provide! 

I like the raindrops racing on the window,  they compete without any fight! 

I Feel the damp window as if some goblin cried there all night!

The witches with brooms and the fairies with their wands 

I believe in the magic and the haunts! 

I taste a different world and love its bits,

It fills my voids and to it I proudly submit! 

©Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava ✨

http://instagram.com/rajiv_srivastava📸

Her summertime sorrow…

 

The sun was slouching in the sky as if not yet prepared to embrace the moon, while she dribbled saline on her cushion every night, thinking about her own moon! 

She could feel the summer surging up and high, she knew there won’t be any blankets now to pull over her face and cry. 

So instead she thought of celebrating her lament, somewhere where she could sit with patience.

She went to the park, saw the aged and the young, and breathed some freshness to her lungs!

Some proudly draped their sorrows , some accustomed to their wounds, many lost their youth but never did they frown! 

They all had voids that eventually got filled, some had lost everything but their benevolence wasn’t killed! 

She realised however late, that her void is equally great.

Well, it was only the distance that could be bridged, not a separation that was hard to be abridged.

So she sat for the test, vented her inability in words, promising herself to stay strong, and now it no more hurts! 


✨Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava ✨

👉🏻http://instagram.com/rajiv_srivastava

👉🏻www.imazinindia.com/rajiv srivastava