Honeymoon in Venice!

Lost is my sight, in the vanishing smoke,
In my imagination I could be anything, I was not.
I dream of white shores and a fire pot,
I roam with hippies and I am broke.
 

Loose is my grip, over the sands of time,
Is there, life beyond this shine,
The smell of barbequed fish and wine?
I lost a lot, in my prime.

Gone is the wind, which carried her smell,
She still mocks me, on her honeymoon in Venice.
Blinded by her spell, I walked into the hell,
I am pinned, in my loneliness.

Lingering are my thoughts, in the mist and Rain drops,
The earthly scent and yellow, red, blue blooms.
The winter passed and the spring sobs,
There is still hope, across these catacombs.

Saurabh.

Far from Home

Painted in multi-color,
I wanted to sue the host,
but I ain't a lawyer.

Aroused by the massage,
I wanted to marry the lad,
but I ain't taking that passage.

Drowned in the cookie,
I wanted to speak,
now, its all a blur.

Am i sleeping or its a deep blue sea?
Please, see past the waves,
I am more than just a fantasy.

The weed hasn't kicked in yet,
smoke's not cleared,
guess what - I am winning every Poker lot.

The ride, with slow brakes, is hard to steer,
Its Jack's car, life ain't so different,
if accompanied by a Belgium beer

The road is smooth, and the lane is set,
yet, there are warm clouds,
Its Nelly's smoke, life ain't like that.

I guess, 'm far from home,
though, it feels like home,
the blue sky and the warm sun,
Nelly and Jack, with a bun.


Saurabh.

Road Trip

On the foggy window glass,

In the snow that raw,

My finger rubbed past the dew,

To catch a glimpse,

Of fog and benumbed,

Outside of the car window.

My eyes desire a little sunshine,

My skin, a little warmth.

Ears urge for her chirping,

Lips, the touch of hers,

Hands, a stroke in her hairs,

Body, to have a shadow besides hers.

The sun shined shyly over the meadows,

To hide back in clouds,

As if it kissed the snow - a good foggy day.

Conifers stand tall, covered in snow as if a white ghost,

Sailing with the wind, snow shifted -revealing a green arm,

Only to muddle the sleeping fox beneath.

Relishing in my state- haywired,

A smile played on her, if only, for an instant,

to leave me mortified.

My devotion for her- untouched.

Masked, my feelings rattled,

Green eyed- I explode.

Saurabh.

Letting go!

The toys, that broke,

The promises those never fulfilled,

Deals, that never closed,

The walks those ceased,

Life is, but, an act of letting go.

The memories, that soaked,

The straw u wanted,

The umbrella, that reverted,

The leg that limped,

Life is, but, an act of letting go.

The nail bites that never healed,

The bite, that resembled a kiss,

The tears that never stopped,

the breaths with steady sobs,

Life is, but, an act of letting go.

Conversations, those abrupted,

'coz of the gleam in your eyes,

Future, that went awry,

All, but is an illusion,

Life is, but, an act of letting go.

Tak.

Anamika

आँखें खुली  नहीं  थी अब तक
तीन अंगुल बराबर सी थी
नन्हे से हाथ और
नन्ही सी उन पर अंगुलियां
नन्ही सी थी, मेरी बच्ची

निकट वाले कक्ष में
अब भी मेरी अपनी, उलझी थी ज़िन्दगी मौत की कश्मकश में
इस नन्ही को फिर एक बार देखा
कहीं दूर थी ये तो
ज़िन्दगी की जद्दोजेहद से

निकट कक्ष में, समीप मेरी अपनी के
दिन रात में और रात दिन में विलीन थे
चैन की एक सांस थामने को अरसा हुआ था
दिन ऐसा ही कोई, परिचारिका ले गयी
वहां जहाँ एक नहीं, दो नहीं, कहीं से नवजात, नन्हे थे

फिर थाम, मेरी नन्ही को
अपनी नज़र में भर कर
कुछ ठहर कर, ज़िन्दगी को भूल कर
उसे निहारा, फिर सराहा, मैंने शायद पहली बार
होले से मेरी अनामिका को उसने भर लिया मुठी में अपनी

मेरा ही अक्स, मेरी ही परछाई
मैंने प् लिया, जैसे मेरे जहाँ को
पलख उसने भी उठाई मेरी और
समझ न पाया मैं, की क्या वो मुस्कुराई
जान मेरी, मेरे जिस्म से उसमे पिरो गयी

 अद्भुत, दिव्य है
कोमल सी है
मेरी नन्ही परी
मेरा ही अंश
मेरी बच्ची !



सौरभ।

kal sa nahi

आँख खुली तो, काले आसमां में वो दिखा
खिड़की के शीशे से, मेरा ही अक्स मुझे ताक रहा था
साँसे गहरी थी, वक्त कुछ डेढ़ सा था
खिड़की के झरोखे से, आसमां से, कोई और भी मुझे देख रहा था
मैंने भी कुछ पल के लिए निहार लिया उसे

सोचा था मैंने, बस अब नहीं, कभी नहीं
पर, आज ना जाने क्यूँ , कल सा नहीं
शीशे में जब ताका, मैंने मुझको, एहसास हुआ
दाढ़ी कुछ आ गयी है, बाल तो वैसे ही है, बिखरे हुए
क्या कुछ बदला भी है या सिर्फ मेरा ख्याल है

ना जाने क्यूँ, घड़ी पर एक नज़र पड़ी
तारीख बदल गयी थी, वख्त अब डेढ़ था
आज न जाने क्यूँ, कल सा नहीं
मैं भी,  तुम भी
आज न जाने क्यूँ कल सा नहीं

वख्त कही फरेब तो नहीं
मैं कही मदहोश तो नहीं
एक मुस्कान सी आहट हुई मुझे
कही मेरा ही अक्स, मेरा मज़ाक तो नहीं
आज ना जाने क्यूँ कल सा नहीं

घंटी कुछ चार बार बजी
साँसे मेरी थम सी गयी
उन चार घंटियों के दौरान
धड़कन जैसे रुक सी गयी
वहाँ सुबह के छः बजे थे, जब यहाँ डेढ़ हुआ था

उसकी गहरी साँसो से मेरी
साँसे जैसे फिर जी उठी
एक दबी हुई सी आवाज़
उसने कुछ कहा और फिर सो गयी
मैंने लाइन काटी नहीं

उसकी साँसे फिर गहरी हो गयी
फिर कुछ धीमी फिर शिथिल हो गयी
गर कुछ खूबसूरत है तो उसकी मद्धम सी साँसे
अगले दो पल कुछ नहीं बदला
आखिर वख्त फरेब ही तो है

उसके करवट में अटकी हुई उसकी साँसे
उसी कि मुस्कान कि जैसे, शरारत कर गयी
उसकी धड़कन में उसी के होठो की ख्वाइश है
खिड़की से एक बार फिर उसे देखा, आसमां में
कोना बदल लिया था उसने, आज न जाने क्यूँ कल सा नहीं।


उन खूबसूरत पलों के लिए ,
सौरभ।

The Anger Spice

One usual afternoon, after two weeks of roaming around for the necessary stuff like University registration, Student card and searching an apartment to settle in the Strasbourg city, I boarded onto a tram from Gare Centrale, towards Illkirch, unaware of the consciousness that was guiding me towards the right direction.

I could hear the tram doors slide close behind me. I was tired, perhaps not from the stuff I have been doing after my arrival in France, but from the chaos I have been living and facing since last couple of years. My eyes searched for a place to sit and they found one in front of an old woman. As soon as I arrived at that seat, an old man sitting next to the old woman stared at me with his strange dull eyes and kept his cane on the seat in front of him, the one next to me. It acted as a kick to bring me back from my dreamland. 

Did the person just put his cane on the front seat just to avoid me from sitting there?

‘Yes he did’, I answered to my own question. 

I gazed at his more than eighty year old eyes. I could see nothing, but irritation. I passed a smile without being reciprocated. He stared back at me with the determination that he is not letting me sit near the window. I was not trying to. The old man was indeed very old. He was sporting an Ushanka, a Russian winter cap, but seemed to be French. He cleaned overflowing saliva from his lips with the tissue tucked in one of his fists. At times, he would simply suck it back from the sides of his mouth, instead of cleaning with the tissue. Skin has left the hair roots on his wrist as the retreating tide leaves the beach to dry and become the dead sand. His sight rivalled feelings of disgust and pity in my head. I realized that the old woman on my front seat has left, only when the man shifted to her seat, now directly facing me, instead of the earlier diagonal position. 

Somebody giggled and my attention and thoughts shifted to the other side of the tram. They were a bunch of teenagers, teasing each other in French, probably over the pimple marks, half of them were developing and rest half will probably develop soon. The old man seemed to be unaware of their presence so did the teenagers of his and mine presence around them. Then it occurred to me, that he noticed them before I did. This is why he shifted his seat, in order to not let them sit near him and with this he shifted his cane to seat, he has been occupying earlier. 

The chemistry among teens soon turned into a fun rift. One of them pushed the other two and they would have hit the old man’s head from the back. To my surprise, the old man avoided the impact by moving ahead on his seat, as if he could see what is happening behind his back. I wondered what he will do next. I did not have to wait for too long to see the action from his side. He turned slowly and scared the teens with his cane. 

I wondered if I just saw a smile on his face, instead of anger, but I was not sure. The teens have got their toy by this time. They started to dance and shout as soon as the old man sporting the Ushanka turned his back on them. They will shout, come very near to him, but will remain far enough to be away from his reach. The man showed his cane once or twice again, but it just boosted the teens. The old man got up and balanced himself on his cane. All the teens, except one, ran to the other side of the tram. The other teens watched him from a distance. The old man tried to hit the teen with his cane, without any success. This probably boosted the courage of teen with the pimple marks. He became louder. For the next few minutes the old man sporting the Ushanka and the teen with the pimple marks danced on each other tunes. I wanted to get up and shout on the teens, nevertheless something inside me made me feel that this is all right and I remain unmoved. I happened to look at my reflection in the glass window and I saw a faint hint of smile on my face. The old man’s movement to get the teen, promoted from feeble to decent attempts, but they were still just attempts. 

“Next Station, ‘Leclerc’”, announced the programmed computer voice of the tram. The teen needed to get down there and therefore moved towards the door. The old man like an experienced hunter was waiting for his prey to fell right into his trap. The teen managed to hit the open button without getting hit, but could not get out. Then he rushed towards the open exit with full energy. The kid was sure in old man’s reach and there was enough time and he hit the teen, only to be able to touch the sleeve of his jacket. The teen got out, turned back, enough to be away from the cane’s reach and made a duck face. The old man looked at him and the doors slid back to close. The old man kept standing there, with his cane’s support for another couple of minutes. 

He came back and took his seat and smiled at me. He definitely smiled at me. I could see life in his old dull eyes. I closed my eyes, only to open them an instant later to confirm that I understand. We both smiled in unison. He got down at next station. I waved a good bye at him and he reciprocated with a big smile.

I found the answer to my puzzle, over my own anger; I have been trying to answer since last few days. 

Sometimes anger is just the right spice missing in the curry of life.
Tak.