Neend

Har raat woh aata tha,
phoolon sa mehekta hua

Ankhon se milta tha
aur raat ko thahar jaata tha

Din mein chedta rehta
aur raat ko zor se lipat jaata tha

Din mein ankhon ko wohi,
pyar se sajaa ke jaata tha...
chamakte hue heeron se

Ankhen khafa hain aajkal,
ke barson mein unse milne
andhera aaya nahin

Kahin woh bhool toh nahi gaya
Ke ankhon ko uski zaroorat hai?

Par hai bhi woh bada bedard
Kisi aur ki raaton mein mast pada hoga...
yahin kahin

Of Vices

Been there done that. Its a powerful position to be in when you catch up with old friends.

'DUDE! you havent EVER done that??!!! You kidding me right??!'

'Yah man! I used to do it all the time...but now I'm learning to abstain.'

It's very surprising to think how things, that have been proven bad, are always cool. And its cooler to have done it and quit it. That increases the power multifolds. Coz you have conquered the vice inspite of it trying very hard to get you!

Ah what the hell...we all do it all the time.
Its always cool to show off vices...just like its cool to have latest gadgets, to talk about rock concerts, specially if you have the extra dope on some obscure band whose popularity never rose above a couple of basement junkies.
There are of course more innocent motives behind vices, like actually liking it. But that, one person does and a hundred pretend to like it coz they think this one person defines what's cool. And following her gets u in her league.

Guess its always been like this and will continue to be so till the day non-conformity becomes the latest fad.

Anyway after having made no point at all, I blame my long lost friend for this post, coz this ranting was triggered by a discussionI had with him...

My Wild Child

You built red mazes of truth and lies
Your puzzles keep the sun awake

You play with the lost wild flowers
your poems turn them to shades of pink

You tickle the black clouds gently
your touch makes their palms sweat

You stray from the concrete curves
your tunes make the streams sway

You flirt with the serene evenings
the sky blushes and the birds flutter

You ditch the moon for the red star
every night the moon melts an arc

You live a dream every night
Stars glisten with your glittering eyes

You, my dearest wild child,
give nature a reason to be

A Rhyme for Mou

A sub and a book is all she needs
She eats the sub and the book she reads

She wears glasses and looks through them
She goes to lush and buys ahem ahem

She eats at mess then hogs at TT
Sweet tiramisu and anything meaty

She sleeps a lot and likes it quiet
Aerobics is on but to hell with the diet

I like her and I think she likes me
In Bombay we’ll meet and friends we’ll be.

-----
To the wonderful times and rhymes with Mou!

Stuck between here and the moon!

She spread her wings and coloured them purple
She looked around her to find the fresh grass dancing

She chose to stay there a night and soak in white dew
She packed some of the pink that she stole from the roses

She loved the blues but chose to go to the black of the moon
She sprinkled her pink on it, laid down the fresh green cushions

She then settled down somewhere
between here and the moon


----
Dedicated to Pranky- one of the most colourful dreamers I know

To Uma

Silver rings and golden dents
Beatle’s love and lush scents
Warm hugs and gleaming eyes
Plush cushions and Radiant smiles
Yeh sama and Denver’s Country roads
Your voice, my base and Guitar chords
Jugalbandi with neighboring speakers
Between Ghazals and The Beatles

Cheers to two years of neighbourhood!

A Happy Birthday

Wait...is it today?
Yes it is
No...maybe not
Oh what the heck does it matter
I will call

Eyes drooping, begging for rest
But Wait its just 11:57
3 more minutes to go
Oh what the heck does it matter
I will call

Called early, beat the queue
Should have said more
Should have said less maybe
Oh what the heck does it matter
I did call

Shouldn't discuss you with others
Shouldn't reveal history
Like always, did what I shouldn't
Oh what the heck does it matter
I shall lie

Lie I did, oh how I suck at it!
Angry and restless
Zoomed through it, without explanation
Oh what the heck does it matter
They wouldn't see

Stalking the shelves of past
found myself green
No, this cant happen, shouldn't happen
Oh what the heck does it matter
I won't crack

Cracking and crashing
found my way to the crust
trembling hands reaching for it
No. It doesn't matter anymore
the crust has crumbled and is no more

Matters Of Fact And Ficiton

Some truth, some confessions, some dreams

Some cooked up for me to feel nice
Some to make others feel not so nice

Some as nauseating as salted water
Some refreshing like seaside breeze

Some landing me on the rim of a fire ball
Some taking me off on a flight of dreams

Some like the messenger between mutes
Some like the air between parting friends

Some blinding; some binding
Some furious; some frivolous
Some short; some never ending
Some smooth; some abrupt
Some effortless flattery
Some painful hypocrisy

No, it’s not all fiction...
But never full truth either

Alive

A wild flower
orphaned by a tree,
fell and lay still

Dressed in droplets
the pink feels like satin

A tired clock
beaten by routine
moves in circles

Clicking its way through
a redundant journey

A blasphemous sentence
hated by the sane
ignored by the rest

It sums up the divorce
of luck and life

The flower
rests in peace and beauty

The clock
is racing itself to death

The sentence
was crucified by the sane

But hey!
Did you notice?

I'm still Alive!

Ek Raat Ki Kahaani

Kabhi raat ki khamoshi mein
hawa ka shor ghul jaata hai
toh woh raat badi nam ho jati hain

Aasman ko raat se shiqva hai
raat ki vajah se subah mit jaata hai
Aur aasman ko khud se ladkar
har pehar apni shakl badalni padti hai

raat har din dhalne ka intezaar karti hai
aur har roz marne ki koshish karti hai

Aasman bas dekhta rehta hai
kabhi jab woh samajh jaata hai,
toh dar kar subah ki garmi mein
panah lekar raat ko mita deta hai

Par kabhi nazarandaaz kar
apni dhun mein woh bas
Subah ki zulfon se khelte hue
baadalon ko sajaata rehta hai

Kabhi woh shaam aayegi
jab raat mar chuki hogi
taare aayenge use dekhne

Aasman bada soona hoga...
taaron ke bina...
hogi toh bas,
subah ki garmi

An ode to JP

He likes to be five minutes early
He has no hair, neither straight nor curly
he is not thin...in fact, he's burly
Shivani, Harshal, Su & sherly
Shivani, Harshal, Su & sherly

He likes blue and he like red
"Break-even is all about opinions", he said
when he spoke, our ears bled
Jack, Jenny, James & Fred
Jack, Jenny, James & Fred

He says bathroom is not a place to sing
and the phone more than thrice shouldn't ring
he hates tying his shoe string
tring, tring, tring & tring
tring, tring, tring & tring

He loathes 'loosing' at Chess
his website and blog are a total mess
Whats his name...can you guess???
JP, Yes Yes!!
JP, Yes Yes!!

------------

Poests' note: We are vaaary haaaappy inside & inside to have come up with this masterpiece.
This astonishing piece of poetry is dedicated to Ham 'Birdy' Mallela for inspiring us thoroughly.

Of Murders

When a malicious smile
punches you...
like a speeding car
crushes a flower

When an honest confession
becomes an unpardonable crime...
a crime that warrants
no forgiveness and mercy

When a simple greeting
becomes a punishment...
for the sin forged
forcibly on your head

Then you know

You know
you are like a straw
standing against the storm

You know
facts don't matter

In this game of power,
both the king and the pawn
are powerless

They are but puppets

The one who defies orders
dies a nameless death

Witches can rhyme

What would the sky know
Of hot fire and cold snow?

How can the banks see
The violence below the sea?

What’s hidden; what’s shown
Can’t dress up the unknown

A themeless hollow tale
Gets boring and pale

So put away the pen
Think and maybe then

You would actually write
With all your might

I’m neither a witch nor an angel
Its all perspective and angles!

Yeah right Buzz off!!

Ah victory!

A pat
On the back
Waiting
Wanting
Deserving
And finally
Achieving
When all is
Stooped under
The ground
Elevating
Alleviating

Nothing!!!

A dozen hot ladies staring out of a calender
A dead phone waits to be revived
An old bottle with a torn note looks lost
A half filled bottle tries its best to seek attention
A newspaper looks on while epaper stares down at it
A huge screen tries not to confuse numerous profiles
A stack of useless papers search for their owner
A tray with assorted stationary uselessly lie in silence
A locked cupboard waits to be freed and filled
A cadillac zooms out of a shining wall paper
The fan swings making thunderous noise
The air smells of cigarette and my neighbour's perfume
2 dozen people work without a pause- walking talking
Multiple phones ring at atime creating a random symphony
A brown leather bag restlessly waits to be picked up
A colourful ganesh looks on as I type this nonsense
Sitting at my desk in Mudra, without any work
whiling away hours royally and doing absolutely Nothing!

Aas hai

Apne aashiyaanon ko kosta jaaye
Naye jahaan dhoondhta jaaye
Zameen se door bhaagta jaaye
Sawaalon ke ghere se bachta jaaye
Man yeh bavra udta jaaye
Khud se ladke haarta jaaye

Chand ki aas mein aasman chedta jaaye
Taaron ki chamak chod daag mangta jaaye
Din mein chaand chahta jaaye
Baadolon se ladte dhoop jhelta jaaye
Man yeh bavra udta jaaye
Apni chahaton ko boojhta jaaye

Kabhi Apni raftar se haar manta jaaye
Kabhi Pairon ki tezi ko haraata jaaye
Sukoon ki talaash mein bhatakta jaaye
Na milne par bechain, atakta jaaye
Man yeh bavra udta jaaye
Ruk ruk ke phir chalta jaaye

Aankhon ko pardon se dhakta jaaye
Din - raat mein fark bhoolta jaaaye
Bhatke jugnu ki tarah timtimata jaaye
Ujaale mein apni roshni jalaata jaaye
Man yeh bavra udta jaaye
Raaton ko andhera karta jaaye

Aas hai...
ke sawaalon ki rihaayi hogi
chahton ki vidaayi hogi
man saath raftar milayega
raat jalegi ; din bujhega

Come to my land

Come and I will take you home
Beauty rules this land
And I am, but an admirer

Ill take you to the garden of serenity
We'll watch the sun eat up the dew
We'll listen to birds singing in harmony

Come and I will take you along to paradise
Where abstract words become poetry
And tilted tunes become music

I'll take you to the lake, I call it peace
We'll spill some drink some splurge some
We'll read gathered verses, sing disjoint lines

Come and I will take you there
Where you and I could live
Walk waltz and move jazz

I'll take you to the naked moon
We'll crack the code and read the crates
Swallow the breeze and gather the stars

Come away to my land...

Dhoop

Aaj ki subah kuch udaas si hai
Hawa mein nami bhari padi hai
Pichli raat ke baarish ka saara paani
Shaayad aaj, subah ne sok liya
Ro-roke uski aankhen bhi sujh gayi
Dhoop laado na, phir ek baar...

The F word

Favours in friendship are fine..but friendship as a favour? Im not too sure of that...Favours...I have begun to hate the word now

Ruffles

Ruffles of thoughts bundled together

Thoughts of different colours and moods

Black takes me to an irretraceable dark hatred

Blue pushes me into the current of depression

Red visits in spurts along with a blast from the past

Green makes me wonder why I’m alone in a sin-city

Pink deserted me when I threw away my last pink gown

Maroon brings in a much required pinch of indifference

Lilac takes me into the world of new paths and now,

White is what appeals the most…blank, unattended and alone