Sad Girls

Sad girls?

Sad girls aren't pretty.
Not with their smudged kajal.

Sad girls just need a guy.
What an attention-seeking whore.

Sad girls just don't smile enough.
Happiest smiles are the prettiest.

Sad girls don't have a reason.
People have it worse, you know?

Sad girls aren't really sad.
I don't see the tears.

Sad girls, you say?

Sad girls don't exist.

Endings

He: Loving can hurt. Loving can hurt sometimes.

She: Ha! You are one to speak, after what happened.

He: Loving can heal. Loving can mend your soul. I swear it'll get easier.

She: Learnt cooking like you would always ask me to. Still don’t get the salt right.

He: You won't ever be alone. Wait for me to come home.

She: I did wait for you for years. My life became a tape in rewind.

He: Inside these pages you just hold me, and I'd never let you go.

She: But when you told me there was a war and they needed you, I let you go.

He: Next to your heartbeat, where I'd be.

She: I didn’t get to kiss you goodbye.

He: I will remember hearing you whisper through the phone, "Wait for me to come home."

She: I am waiting, Vikram. You always kept your promises.

In response to Aditi Rao's Beginnings

A Song of Stag and Boar

King Robert of House Baratheon,

Was a fine young man once upon a time.

But as age took its toll and grief engulfed him,

For the kingdom that he fought for, he stopped giving a dime.

King Robert of King's Landing,

Used to have a beautiful wife named Cersei.

Not that he ever cared for her, he never did love her,

For mourning for the dead Lyanna, he was too busy.

King Robert the poor old man,

Who used hunting to hide his depression,

Tried to kill a boar and failed miserably,

The evil queen Cersei and her wine had won.

King Robert now lies on his death bed,

Staring the Grim Reaper in his eyes.

The poor soul, he does not know,

The son he so adores, is his brother-in-law's and wife's.

human or Human

Human arise from within the people,

“only Human” we become.

Rise above the racket and ripple,

the dance of two in a couple,

a dance our life become.

Human arise from within the people.

Past is a frame, reflections on a bubble.

human minds always hum,

rise above the racket and ripple.

Human climb to flower a sepal,

we’ve seen but a crumb.

Human arise from within the people.

Listen not to songs of the steeple

bearing down, don’t succumb,

rise above the racket and ripple.

No matter cunt, cock, or cripple,

more than prints of our thumb,

Human arise from within the people,

Rise above the racket and ripple.

While you’re you

the dusk’s desire becomes the night’s dream once in a while.

So shouldn’t you be me and I bet you just awhile?

A secret will be whispered in your dreams tonight.

So find your lies in mine-as I fall asleep for a while?

The color fades when you paint him with love 

at times. Was it my blood all this while? 

And the threads of our time untied our love 

for us. Which was always there-but just awhile

The jar of betrayal was broken

when all my questions asked me:

et tu, Harsha? It’s been a while.

in this world

Ghalib ke momin ke khwabon ki duniya
majazo ke Un Inqalabon ki duniya
Faiz-e-firaq-o-Sahir-o-Makhdoom-Mir ki Zauq ki Daaghon ki duniya

- Piyush Mishra, Gulaal (2009)

sleep's calm
protects this world
from a drunkard's
curse which is in
debt of this world
                                   a poet's verses rhyme in this world seeing
                                   another free himself from the burden of words as
                                   slaves and subjects become citizen on this world,
                                                                                                                  you and i bury
                                                                                                                   someplace
                                                                                                                   closer in this
                                                                                                                   world where a
                                                                                                                   a kiss can freeze
                                                                                                                   the tension around
                                                                                                                   this world.
negligence is read in the history of this world as moon plays hide and seek in our

our world.
                                                                              

ufff

tiredness is between
shrugged      shoulders
         crushed in
the 6pm metro carrying
tomorrow's work
home tonight.
But then somedays
tiredness is in
the next morning
waiting 5 mins. for a bus
to school
but then, also in
waiting another 5
for the next one
to arrive
                with a seat
left to occupy.
But see, tiredness tries.

 to fit inside

this 9th grade guy
who travels 

an extra hour
from his bus-stop
to see this girl 

get down at her

stop and get on

her boyfriend's bike

who'll take her

to this bar
where I drank
till midnight

dil ki ghabrahat

ne labzo par rakhi
ishq ki masoomiyat
jisne labon ke takrahat
ko dedi ek galti ki hesiyat.

Dear Rain

The road's in debt

 of your drain
what's the pleasure in you, dear rain?
you're our 9 AM exasperation
we're afraid of being late, but in our
"'it was raining heavy" excuses

your first-rate. 

you being the faultless pretext 

to be made, can't even say we had to wade 

Noah flood or survive a drought, 
you're one silly offer we've brought.

IN NEWS

The prisoner who’s was beheaded

 has grown another head which is soon to be 

decapitated. It’s an old axe: the one that keeps

                                                                       falling    

                                                                and raising. Which

is why the prisoner throws a gold coin

at the executor

death carries no

debt. 

when your mess card

runs out of balance
and you are ordering
food out of your pocket
                           money
dal starts serving protein
rice isn't just white
mixed veg finally tastes
plural and raita isn't just
water.

earlier it was all one meal

On some days

ink lets paper be
and spills into
the air, instead.

the sky
creates a new colour
on these days. sometimes,
it rains glass.

on such days
even our skin learns
to breathe freely.



(for Akhil Katyal)

दरख्त ए ख्वाब

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,

Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?"

~T.S. Elliot, Wasteland 

वो जो अपने बगीचे में तुमने लाश बोई थी

अब वो उगने लगी है क्या ? वो इस साल खिलेगी ना?

क्या उसपे फूल आएंगे हमारी बीती मोहब्बत के ?

सुनो किस रंग के होंगे वो?

क्या होंगे वो सियह जैसे हमारी रात गुज़री थी

या होंगे वो सुरख जैसे हमारा खून बहा था

फक़त रखने उसे ज़िंदा जो रिश्ता मर ही गया था

क्या मंडराऎगीं तितलियाँ  उन ख्वाहिशों के फूलों पर?

 नोच कर सारी पंखुड़ियाँ तुम  फूलों को  तबाह  करना

लेके रोज़ नयी खाव्हीश मेरी तुम जड़ों पर ज़िबा करना

सुनो तुम उन  तितलियों  को यूँ  ना प्यासे रवानः करना

और जब वो ज़रा सा पौधा इक दरख्त बन जाए 

तो उसकी टेहनियों पर सहमे अधूरे कुछ ख्वाब उगेंगे 

मेरे हर ख़्वाब छू कर तुम ज़रा बस पाक कर देना 

दिलाकर उन को भरोसा तुम जलाकर राख कर देना 

फ़िर उसी क़बर की मिट्टी मे मिला कर साथ कर देना 

और जो बाक़ी पत्तों में मेरी कहीं जो रूह रह जाए 

उन्हें दरख्त पर बस तुम यूँ ही लटकते रहने देना 

उन्हें सूख सूख गिर जाने देना
उन्हें मुरझा मुरझा मर जाने देना। 

ज्वाला

कल्पना का रक्त चूसते ये सभी परजीव न्यारे
स्वप्न के तन पर तीव्रता से फिर रहे हैं
हताशा के घनघोर बादल ये सभी सारे के सारे
मन के नभ पर वीरता से घिर रहे हैं
एक मनोरथ को झुकाने पुरज़ोर आँधी चल रही है
पर है अपर्ण की यह ज्वाला जो हृदय में जल रही है

[परजीव Parasite ;  मनोरथ Will ; अपर्ण Dedication]

In response to Aditi Rao's 'what i want now'

I want to sit with you for the last time and gaze the moon silently while listening to 65daysofstatic. And then lie on the on the grass newly wet from the midnight dew and hold you a little so that my thoughts can be stopped from collapsing into a supernova which is about to become a black hole. For the mass of oblivion is million times greater than the volume of my brain. For capacity of my mind to sustain all this is shredding faster than light. I want to you to stop using astronomical metaphors. I want you to forget our plans about shifting to Iceland. I want you to stop tracing the patterns of Aurora Borealis. I want you to unsubscribe that Icelandic teaching YouTube channel. I want you to stop doing our escapism exercises, I want you to bring yourself back from the non-existent world of ours. I want you to start believing that I’ll be gone soon. But most importantly I just want to sit with you and gaze the moon and listen to 65daysofstatic. 

तमाशा

In response to Aditi Rao's 'A letter to a Kashmiri friend'

मासूम  खून  जितनी  असानी  से  रोज़  झेलम  में  फिकता है 
लगता है तुम्हें दर्द-ओ-ज़ख्म-ओ-मौत सिर्फ़ तमाशा दिखता है

मेरे बागीचे से गुलाबों की खुशबू किसी को आएगी  भी  कैसे 
मेरे  वतन  में  फूलों  से  कहीं  ज़्यादा तो बारूद  बिकता  है

ये  खाकी वर्दी  ये वादी चीरते तार तुम्हें यहां नज़र  आएंगे कैसे 
तुम्हें हाथों से फिसलती जन्नत के अलावा और क्या दिखता है

अदिति अपने मुल्क की हमारी सरज़मी पर ज़रा खुद्दारी तो देखो 
सर कलामी की ग़ज़ल में तख़ल्लुस में खुद को रहमान लिखता है