Emptiness outside, emptiness inside: The Storm of Fall 2012

Call me crazy

That's the way I want to be

This chaos of my world

Is better than the order of yours

-------

Fall of 2012 was a joy I couldn’t cherish for long. I had just received a great scholarship. Was studying in a brilliant school in the city everyone craves to live in (New York). I was finally living on my own. There was that smell of newness, the energy that a milestone brings to you. The streets, the noise all added to the craziness in head. Happy? Or so it appeared to me. Or so, I wanted it to appear.

Is it a crawling snake?

That can be seen with my eyes shut 

Or should I use a shiny rake?

To polish the loose ends of my senseless gut 

The storm in October 2012 that happened in the city of New York took a lot then just the city’s infrastructure. It left a bright dirty spot on my mind too. As Sandy, The Storm changed the course of action for the city making it moan in pain of devastation; a storm took over my life too. Before the storm, I had been overwhelmed by the new life and the daily events: meeting people, managing things totally on my own, feeling lonely, feeling excited. After the storm, I stood there, with an expressionless face and the shattering noise of being broken.

Darkness around is darkness inside


That resonates every now and then

Sooner or later one has to decide


To embrace or reject it from within

Birds have stopped chirping now


And trees stand unshaken


All I see is a raised up brow


With hoards of words waiting to be taken



I walked down the Washington Square Park to my building overly dressed in layers of clothing, trying to save myself from the cold snow. It was 4 pm, dark already and the cold air around hitting my face made me wonder how people saved themselves from the gloominess this weather brought to their lives. I recalled the time from Delhi where I had always hated the heat and craved the snow.

There I was, having what I had desperately wanted. But was I happy? Why was sadness gripping me? The aftermath of the October Storm had left a crack in my soul. November had been healing but the emptiness did not help. Diwali in Canada and Thanksgiving at New Jersey made me feel better as being around family helped. And as the month of November flashed before my eyes, no matter how hard I tried to be happy and love it all, the pain just gripped me tight. All I could hear was the silence inside. The chirping people celebrating another festive month did not come as a breath of fresh air. I was so looking forward to the New Year. Even though I hated the soulless cold air slapping my face, I tried to embrace it. I knew I deserved it. The good, and the bad!

Sudden rush brings joyful trouble


In this dark painful body of work

Eyes rubbed again to rid off the bubble

Trying to shed of the inside Berk

Creaks of the window in pain


Without wind playing a role


Glass is lost & wood is in stain

Nobody looks at the dented pole

It was a routine for me to sit beside the window in my room. The heater made me realize how humans crave for what is missing. "When its cold, we want hot, always wanting what is not". The words resonated in my mind. The irony was that somewhere that cold-hot change made me learn about my own self. My constant craving for what is missing from my life and my struggle to change when that missing piece of the puzzle is found.  The funny thing was, I enjoyed it. The numerous phone calls to home just to stay afloat failed at times. The empty room made me cry and weather outside made it hard to get out.

Pages flying in the head


Are they a figment of my imagination too

Lying on desk, sitting on bed


Asking why when the question is who

The snake crawls near


And starts growing in size


Bravely facing it without any fear


Or wear a veil and disguise



But yes, I survived! I survived strong. And people helped. Those long discussions in the kitchen with my landlady, those friends who would call from India, those city friends helping me get out of home and yes, that one new friend who came in just at the right time to help me embrace pain, helped me immerse myself in work and recover.





No sign of light, but fire within


Fear is lived to reach freedom


Don't burst the thought yet with that pin


Prematurity here would be just so dumb

I started embracing the pain, enjoying the wind slapping my numb face. Everything turned beautiful and yes, I was waiting for 2013 to come with my arms spread wide!

The darkness around is darkness inside


For fire originates in you


Convert it in light and let it reside


In words long lived, even if a few

Is it a crawling snake?

You can continue to question forever


Or puff the snake & his venom


And cherish the poison in you, in you.

Explaining Menstruation need not be Awkward

It was a regular day at school and there I was doing regular things. Attending classes, chit-chatting, copying notes and yes, waiting eagerly for the day to end. Innovation was always something that my school sorely lacked in. I always felt that the teaching was delivered in a top-to-down manner and that the focus was on earning marks instead of developing capacities. As a seventh standard student, I was curious, scared, and mostly confused about my changing body and the spectrum of emotions I was dealing with. In my circle of girl-friends, we would often discuss why the boys in our school suddenly developed strange heavy tones in their voices, why our bodies had suddenly started growing in weird regions in addition to a variety of other such questions which kept popping up in conversations day in and day out. To our dismay, we never had anyone around to discuss all this with. As the days passed, our anxieties and curiosity kept on increasing with no answers in sight.

Well, so it was a regular hot day at school and it was that time of the day when all we could think about was when we would be left out of the gates that looked like prison bars to me (because I have never been a fan of school and studying). That was when someone entered the class and an announcement was made. “All the girls have to report to the basement in classroom Z,” said a teacher. While we girls wondered what had just happened, the boys I remember were curious to know why they were not a party to all of this. There we were then, almost half the population of the class, getting up and going down to the basement with clueless expressions on our faces and excitement in our minds for we had just got released from the boring Mathematics class that was taking place.

From the third floor, as we walked down slowly to the basement, many speculations about what was going to happen were made; injections, health check-ups, random gifts and such were some of them. I remember very clearly that one girl declared that we were going to be spoken about something called periods. The word was definitely not new to me. Well, school periods were something we always knew about but then she went on to explain about a new concept called ‘Menstrual Periods’. I began walking down the stairs wondering what menstruation was all about. The very first day I had heard about it was the day when several of my questions were left unanswered.

As we entered the dingy room in one corner of the lobby, I saw the room packed with girls. On one corner was a small television set and we all sat down as spectators in front of it. “A movie…ahh…not bad,” I thought to myself. The heat started getting to my head as a straight-faced lady entered the room and we were made to hush our voices down to sit and silently listen as usual.

A ten-minute long movie showing us how to use a sanitary napkin added more confusion to my ever-dramatic mind. I sat there wondering about whys and whats and whose and whens. My friend, the one who had already got her periods re-assuredly patted my back and promised to tell me all about it. For me, the idea of bleeding every month without any reason sounded crazy. “This is how it happens” was replaced by “It happens! Deal with it!”

The next moment, I saw myself walking back to the classroom with a sanitary napkin provided to us as a return gift to carry back. The ‘Angels of Menstruation’ had just informed us about ‘that time of the month’. I felt like I was thrown into a pool with a life jacket but in no way trained to know how to use it, why to use it and why indeed we needed to do so. With no training, with no reason, with no knowledge about why the changes were taking places, I found questions popping up in my head but was too scared to get the words out of my mouth.

We tried to hide it in our blazers and some hid it by folding it in our hands because we knew that the very moment we returned to the class, there would be faces looking at us with questioning eyes, curious to know what it was that made us so special that only we were invited for. It is one of the funniest yet weirdest memories of my school days to be questioned by the boys around me, with my school bag among many others being rummaged to find out what was gifted to us. We had no answers; we didn’t know how to tell the boys and indeed if we could in fact tell them anything at all.

Over the years, the memory keeps on coming and going from time to time. When I had my periods, I was unsure and scared about everything and the way in which it all took place. From that friend-who-had-it-first to sometimes the-elder-sister figure, I turned to everyone for answers but the very idea that it was supposedly dirty and that it wasn’t considered normal to talk about it made my curious brain forcefully shut down, leaving most of my questions unanswered.

My mother never encouraged me to talk about it. We were told that we were not supposed to make it obvious when it was ‘that time of the month’. We were told to hide our painful cramps and to deal with our mood swings. “Have tea, and keep quiet,” my mother would say. Well my mouth was shut but in my mind, the conditioning took place in such a way that I grew up thinking that periods were strictly not to be spoken about and that it was a shame that we had to go through it in the first place.

Years passed by and one fine day when I found myself sitting with a group of adolescent girls in a slum in Delhi with their curious eyes staring back at me, I realized how I would have looked at that time. I left myself at the disposal of those girls, ready to answer any question, any issue, anything at all. I started narrating my story and told them of how, over the years, I had gone through a phase of not knowing to knowing it all. Internet, movies, discussions, research and other avenues of information had all helped me but I knew the challenges I had faced in my struggle to reach the point where I knew that periods were not ‘dirty’, it wasn’t something we had to hide or ignore and that it was a natural process which we most certainly were blessed to go through. For me, the lack of a mentor to help me understand this process got me to realize how I could be one for many others. That is how I found myself answering absolutely anything that the girls ever wanted to know about menstruation.

We live in a society where we consider women impure during their periods. You cannot go to a temple, touch pickles or enter kitchens. We study and function in such societal structures where life processes are taught as mere subjects and not as something crucial to growing up. Sex Education is good, but the manner in which it is delivered needs to be restructured. We live in homes where even the act of throwing a sanitary napkin is to be done with a certain amount of care and secrecy. Well, if change have to take place, it has to start with us. I started with my younger sister, with many other boys and girls in my house and went on to address the dilemmas of many young minds at various other places. You have to decide where to start. Act now, or else ignorance will only result in curious brains shutting down and in creative minds clamping up.

This article was originally published at Menstrupedia blog 

Strolling thoughts. Lingering Lines!

Just below the charminar lies a very tiny old Hindu temple. While the mosque nearby resonated Allah musicals, loud chants attracted Hindus.

Iftaar food on the streets and chameli flowers beaded in threads all lie there together. I wondered why so much police strolled the area.

Was it because it was a Hindu festival in ramazan month or because of the historical not so friendly friendship between the two religions.

I saw anxities on the faces of many. I saw happiness too. I saw poverty as limbless beggars approached travelers. I saw richness too.

I saw so many distinctions. But what shined the most in this land of confusions was the loss of humanity. Ppl were running away.

Running away from realities. Realities not that the govt has constructed for them. But realities of their birth. Not religion. Not land

In the bright day n loud music, in the crowd n chaos, the monument stood their witnessing yet another chaos. I stood there doing same.

How was then I different from the four pillars of charminar? Not old enough like them but as meaningless as it could be for any action.

Bricks, stones, heart, humans, all hav slowly turned synonymous. Witnesng events not so pleasant. Scared of conflict. Scarred by conflict

I wasn't alone there. I realized how everyone was beaded together by history and future. Even if they disliked. Trying to break free..

The chaos turned silent n I kept walking. Just another futile day of realizations and helplessness. That's how I romance with chaos!

- Diary of an Oxymoron

Language, is never a barrier to love: Travel-Diary

I have been to the hills and down to the dessert,

I have traveled far and near.

Seen the sunsets and the rises so high

Lived in freedom, cherished the fear! 

                                                       - Suchi Gaur

With a sad look on my face, I sat down as I took the subway train to the bus terminal that early morning. Living alone away from family was getting on me and maybe that was the reason I was running away from New York yet again. I mean, no sane person runs out of the charming magnificent NYC to a sub urban town. But there I was, dull and dusted just trying to get some sense as I cherished my love-hate past few months in New York.

I lived in a Spanish locality. The outskirts of Morningside area in Manhattan were interesting to live by. The Spanish store, the Spanish crowd, the fruit sellers calling me Senorita, the mixed Asian and Europeans breed trying to make the city Global, everything was magical. But that day as I sat in the train, I was on verge of giving up. Everyone and everything seemed so aloof. It was crowded yet I stood there alone in that global city.

And, sat next to me a woman. Well, I had always been taking the subways, smiling at strangers, waving at children and saying regular thank you and sorry to those who helped me and those I gave trouble to as my elbow touched them a little respectively. And amidst that heavy crowd and ever running brigade of people, some of whom I met every day, I was lonely. I was alone. I realized what fear meant as I realized what freedom did to me. I used to see cheerful faces, sad faces, sleeping faces and the straight faces too as I looked around, not offending or staring but merely observing, enough to create an impression on me.

So, while the woman, in her late 70s sat next to me, I sat down with my small suitcase ready to run out of the city to some solitude in silence. The wrinkles on her face and the Spanish words she kept murmuring made me realize how wisdom and whining links exist. I sat there quietly sulking my ass off as she noticed me. The notice that changed the way the day was about to move ahead.

“nombre??” she asked me. Of the little Spanish I had learnt in the past few months and my logical brain I struggled to wonder if she was asking me some number or my name. “Suchi”, I gave in, trying to attempt my Spanish understanding, or lack of one. And there she started speaking. The train journey that was supposed to be for some 25 minutes started on a dull note and went on to chattering noises of her mixed with the subway announcements and people rushing in and out. At few moments her voice cracked and she stopped to take a breath. I sat there, as she spoke to me, looking in her eyes trying to understand what she meant. I realized pretty early, she was telling me a sad story of her life. The arms, the gestures, the emptiness in the eyes and the hopelessness, all clubbed together to make me empathize with her pain. After all, I was in pain too. And pain, as I know, cuts through languages and cultures to create a bond. I smiled at her. Not a mockery or laughter but the smile that I thought I needed. She kept on narrating and talking in her shivering broken Spanish high and low pitches. I, sat there quiet, listening to her.

Her station was about to come. I realized as she got ready to get up adjusting the side pack bag on her body with the walking stick in her hand. “seguir sonriendo” she said as she placed her hand on my head, in form of blessing. She gave me a smile. A smile I realized was similar to what I gave her. A smile, I found missing from many hundred faces I crossed every day. A smile, that felt like love. It was later when I checked the meaning of what she had said that I realized that all she asked me to do is ‘keep smiling”.

As a person who likes to find solace by running away from realities, I have always been tempted to rush back to places which help me forget the pace and find a little part of me missing from the current sphere. And so, when I think of travel, I understand that what comes along is not just the highs of new city adrenaline rush but also the lows of being connected to your roots, where you come from. Not only does travel creates a freshness but also helps you find the reasons to a lot of present realities that exist in your life, the answers to many loosely lying questions around, in your grey matter. And while thats exactly what it does to me every single time, I come back with more love that usual. Love that goes beyond two humans, love that is much deeper and long term than any other committed relationship. 

The very moment that the subway incident happened to me, a Déjà vu took me back to a similar experience I had in a village in Bihar many years ago where in her broken rural Maithili tone a woman just like her had asked me to smile, more often. Alone and may be lonely as I was in Bihar, I was in New York and that very moment I realized what I ever needed, the smile, to come back to realities and cherish the present every single time. I got up at my stop and strolled down to the bus with a smile that had been missing for a few weeks from my face. In me she had found her punching bag, her cushion to speak, in her I had found my smile. I realized, love, has no languages, has no locations, no connections. You can find it where and when, you least expect it! 

Questions

And you ask me if I want it. 

What's the fun in questioning 

When all I will do is run away! 

Questions haunt me

And you ask me why the pain

What is good to question about it

When all I expect is you to know it

Because, questions haunt me

And you ask me what I need in life

What is good to questions wants 

When all I want is to sail through towards

Because, questions haunt me

And you ask me why I react as I do

What is good to question escapism 

When all I want is somebody to bring me back

Because, questions haunt me

And you ask me when will I decide

What is good to question d reactions 

When all I want is to enjoy actions alone

Because, questions haunt me

And u ask me how I see the future 

What is good to ques the un arrived

When all I want is 2 cherish the time together

Because, ques haunt me

And you ask, oh you ask

Answering to me has always been panicing task

Why wonder when I m here, why think hard

Because, questions haunt me!

The book of life, should not question

As if there weren't tests otherwise enough 

You ask, you wonder, you ques, I gasp

It Sounds tough!

It's a wish, you make 

It's a pain, put at stake 

It's a journey, then why future we wonder

Give in to moment, just.. Just surrender

Because, questions haunt me

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

कोई आरज़ू

कोई आरज़ू हो जैसे यूंह दबी हुई
कोई डर का बादल जैसे हो मंडरा रहा
क्या जानूं मैं कि क्यूँ ये करे है चंचल मेरा मन
असमंजसों के इस सागर में भटका यह कहाँ जा रहा

-------

वोह था एक टेड़ा मेढ़ा आइना जो था मिला
जिसमें नहीं थी सही छवि अपनी दिखी
गम तोह इस बात का है आज भी
कि उसे ही हम जीवन की सचाई समझ बैठे

------

सन्नाटा या शोर, परछाइयाँ या विभोर
चाहिए तुझे क्या ए बावरे मन
आहट जो होती है हर एक बार
इच्छाएं रंग बदल देती हैं, तमन्नाएं बदल देती हैं पुकार

- Diary of an Oxymoron

Knots

Melting, in this land of heat 

As I try to stay afloat I often meet

The sunshine, the shaking land and wind crazy

Making me water, so hazy

I am falling, dunno where to flow 

No direction no place to go 

Uncertainties in my trembling self I see

Maybe waiting to phase out to free

the smiles r erasing out, 

In solitude I often pout

You see me as this shining flow

And I m here, shud I stand still or should I grow?

 oh sunshine, of land why the pain? 

Wat is there in phasing out to gain? 

Loosing a part of me every second of the day

April, or month f may

I enjoy the tremble, the suffocating knots,

On blank pages they are red blots

They make me feel alive, dying

It's no joke, no m not lying

should I enjoy the change or break free? 

Should I transform into new or just stay me?

Not easy, knot easy, it is to answer. Isn't it?

Meet, Routine

Head scratcher, scratched his head

The caretaker made the bed

The teapot helped us boil a bowl of water

Does routine, always matter??

The tube light was not so bright

On and off, the fan had another fight

Eat the muffin, break the bread

This is how routine is fed?

Curtain covered what was to b hidden

The horse sat quiet, un ridden

Music was noise out from the player

This is routine, fun stay steer!

The creaking chair was there to sit

The door was designed for him to fit

The cat me owed twice, as rat ran away

routine, adventure sway

The fruits were sweet, knife was sharp

shrieking noise was of the broken harp 

He ate it, chomp & chomp

Routine, risk u often stomp!

I looked at him, to see not stare

The sunlight on window pane gave it a glare

He looked young but old in mind

Routine, wisdom lost to find?

Move your butt, shake ur feet

Hit the gym, get out and meet

Do a thing new each day

Routine, so lost, only adventure will stay!

Mind needs fun, so does ur frame

You define ur fun, you give it ur name

Whatever makes u cherish change

Breaks routine, redefines ur range

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

The cycle; the break

I was born,
happiness aside,
the world only mourned
and all I thought was, I am falling

Its school time now,
excitement aside,
my brother is allowed to grow
and all I thought was, I am falling

As I grow up a girl,
Insecurities aside
I am not allowed to unfurl
and all I thought was, I am falling

When my bleeding periods started,
Comfort aside,
No help or knowledge was imparted
and all I thought was, I am falling

No school, no college I can go
Information aside,
I am taught just how to prepare dough
and all I thought was, I am falling

I am grown up girl forced to marry
Choices aside,
Traditions, norms, rules and babies is all I carry
and all I thought was, I am falling

Work on the field, work in the home
Incomes aside,
sitting beside the window my hair I comb
and all I thought was, I am falling

I die in pain, still nobody care
humanity aside,
I am a lonely single player
and all I thought was, I am falling

I am beaten black & blue, day & night
Sanity aside,
Through silence as I am asked to handle these fights
and all I thought was, I am falling

As i sleep beside, a broken future
hopes and faith aside,
Through the chaos I try to smile to nurture
and all I thought was, I am falling

I am falling, I am crawling
This world decides my fate: wrongs & rights
I am falling, I am crawling
Am I the hero or the victim who looses as she fights

The cycle continues i wonder as i die
the does and donts are scripted before hand
who will change the trajectory
the story of this only mans land

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

The smell of nothing

The chimney is out, the kitchen is empty

Lanterns turning dim, smoke out there is plenty

And, All I miss is the smell of nothing 

The faces that surround are mere noise all around,

In the suffocating loneliness, chaos is not hard to be found 

And, All I miss is the smell of nothing

The crazy old man creates a shrieking screech 

Words come out mumbling, there is pain in his speech 

And, All I miss is the smell of nothing

The cracked door is a noisy puzzle waiting to be solved

It opens and closes on itself, in air the noises slowly dissolve

And, All I miss is the smell of nothing

Those blank eyes, Those straight faced smiles, are a depth unknown

Waiting for the world to stop its painful moan 

And, All I miss is the smell of nothing

The smell of nothing, Oh Sweet smell of nothing

Where are thou hiding all the pleasure 

Come out, let me elope to a land unknown with you

And for life, let me cherish you like a treasure 

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

Beneath the starry sky

Beneath the stary sky.. As I close my eyes.. 

The world is still round, profanity still found, I m still a mess and so are you!

It's the silence that is chaos, the words that create the lull..

It's magic yet tragic.. I m still a mess, and so are you

The city lights r left far behind, the darkness is lighting we need 2 find. 

Questions still exist, I m still a mess & so r u

The loneliness might just kill, but then that is all the thrill.. 

Empty mess to fill.. I m still a mess and so are you

We walk bare feet towards the bright, half way as we switch off the light..

It's directionless.. I m still a mess and so r u

We need no one, cz it's just so right. With each another their is no fight.. 

Enjoy the mess.. Cz I m still a mess and so r u

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

परचाहियां

परचाहियां जैसे हैं साथ नहीं छोड़ती
शायद ऐसे ही हैं कुछ अजीब पल चल रहे मेरे साथ
घनघोर कर देते हैं जब आते हैं दिन में याद
और सूनी कर देते हैं हर अँधेरी रात

कभी सोचती हूँ कि क्या रौशनी में भी
होता है ऐसा अजीब सा सूनापन
कि हर बात लगने लगती है अजीब
और हर शब्द कर देता है विचलित यह मन

अँधेरा उजाला, सब हो जाये जब एक सामान
तब सुन्न हो जाते हैं एहसास
क्या तब लालसा होती है बदलाव की?
क्या होती है शोर कि प्यास?

क्या चाहिए तुझे?
बता भी दे मुझे आज
इस उधेड़बुन का ओः अन्वेषक
है क्या सही इलाज?

- Diary of an Oxymoron 

अक्षरों में जो न समां पाये

एक बादल कुछ अजीब सा
सर के ऊपर है छाया
न जाने कैसे वोह बना इतना विशाल
न जाने कैसे खंघोर हुआ उसका साया

कुछ लव्ज़ अटके हुए हैं मेरे इस संगीत में
नहीं करने देते कथन को पूरा
क्या रुक जाऊं जब तक नहीं मिल जाता सही अंत?
या फिर छोड़ दूं इस असमंजस को अधूरा?

लिखते लिखते हूँ रुक जाती
चलते चलते थम जाती हूँ मैं कहीं
आधी कहानी जब लाये आक्रोश कि ज्वाला
कहीं खो जाती हूँ एक दम से वहीँ

कभी आंसू साथ नहीं देते
और कभी हसी ही नहीं है रूकती
जब चेहरे पे हो ख़ुशी सुहानी दिखती
दिल की हर नस है कहीं न कहीं दुखती

अक्षरों में जो न समां पाये
वोह एहसास हर वक़्त है याद रहता
थम जाए कहीं ये वोह कहानी कहाँ
क्युंकि हर मनोभाव यहाँ है दरिया कि तरह बहता

कौन रोक पायेगा, इस मूक तूफ़ान को?

-Diary of an Oxymoron 

वोह एक प्याली चाय

बैठे हों जब हम यारों के साथ
या फिर कहीं किसी कमरे में अकेले
याद बन जाती है हर एक बात
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

कभी शरीर के बिखरे हुए हिसों को है देती राहत
कभी दिमाग का हर एक कोना है जगाती
दवाई बन जाती है कुछ लम्हों के बाद
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

किसी पहाड़ पे हों बैठे हम
या किसी कमरे में ले रहे हों बारिश का मज़ा
इतिहास बन्न जाती है चाहे हो थोड़ी कम
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

फिर भले ही बाटना पड़े किसी के साथ
या फिर बिमारी में खुद ही बना कर हो पीनी
देती है साथ सुबह हो या दिन, शाम हो या रात
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

माँ के हाथ का प्यार
या फिर उस ठेले वाले का हो कमाल
अनजान के साथ करवाती है पहचान
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

किसी को चीनी चाहिए कम
कोई लेता है कड़क पन के साथ
स्वाद का एहसास बन्न जाती है हर दम
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

दुःख में, सुख में
दिन हो या रात
मेरे लिए हर पल है जग जाता
हो अगर वोह एक प्याली चाय

-Diary of a PhD Scholar 

उम्मीद

एक छोटी सी अलमारी में
एक एक करके संजोया था हर खवाब
कुछ हो गए जो पूरे, सम्भाला उन्हें भी
जो थे अधूरे, वोह रोज़ करते थे बेताब

अलमारी भले ही थी छोटी
थी मुझे बहुत ही प्यारी
इस अनजान दुनिया और लोगों के बीच
लगती थी मुझे वोह मेरी दुनिया सारी

फिर धीरे धीरे उसमें जमा हुआ आवंछित सामान
खोये जा रहे थे सपने सुहाने
क्या अलमारी लगने लगी थी छोटी ?
या लगने लगे थे कपडे सब पुराने?

शायद था वोह आवंछित सामान भारी
खाये जा रहा था उसके अंदर कि निर्मलता
या फिर शायद खोखली थी उसकी खुद कि लकड़ी
जोह नहीं समझ पायी सपनो कि सरलता

सुंदरता से जब लिया रूप उसने भयानक
काटने लगी हर एक चीज़
सपने तोह शायद खो ही गए थे
टूटते दरवाज़े करने लगे थे शोर अजीब

फिर जब आया एक भयानक भूकम्प
माप लिया उस अलमारी कि मज़बूती
देह गई कुछ पल में जैसे हो कोई लेहर
और ले गई संग हर उम्मीद वोह झूठी

जब खोखली हुई दीवारें,
सपनों का रंग पढ़ा फीका
जाना हमने कि जी रहे थे एक झूठ
शायद ज़िंदगी को और समझने का यह था एक तरीका

आगे बढ़ने कि कोशिश करनी थी कठिन
पर उम्मीद नहीं थी छोड़नी
फिर एक अलमारी बनाने का सोचा
फिर एक सपना सजाने का सोचा

पर इस बार ध्यान देना था ज़रूरी
फिर ठोकर नहीं खानी थी न
पर आगे क्या होगा किसने है देखा
बढे हम क्युंकि, जीवन कि गाडी चलनी थी न

उम्मीद अभी भी है जगी हुई
पर पुरानी अलमारी का गम भी है ज़िंदा
न जाने कब फिर खुलेगा ये पिंजर मन
न जाने कब मुक्त होगा यह परिंदा

-Diary of an Oxymoron 

रात

अँधेरी रात की गहराई में 
जब 
ढूंढ़ने निकलो किसी पुरानी कहानी की सच्चाई 
तब
सन्नाटा मार डालता है 

-Diary of an Oxymoron

नैना

आंखों में जो है समंदर
उसमें डूबा हुआ है सबका व्यक्तित्व
बस देखने का नजरिया चाहिए
तभी तो जान पाओगे ज़िंदगी कि सचाई 

सोये रहोगे कब तक

कौन रोक पायेगा उस ज्वाला को
जो शुरू हुई थी एक चिंगारी कि तरह
पर चली है आज जलाने को यह दुनिया
किये बिना किसी रीती रिवाज़ कि परवाह

कौन रोक पायेगा उस तूफानी नदी को
जो शुरू हुई थी एक हिमनद के ज़रिये
पर आज चली है तबाह करने
पितृसत्ता कि खोखली जड़ों को

कौन रोक पायेगा उस चक्रवात को
जो शुरू था हवा के झोंके से
पर आज चली है मिटाने लिंग भेद को
लोक सत्ता का सही मतलब बताने

कौन रोक पायेगा, कौन रोक पायेगा
जब शुरू हो जायेगा एक परिवर्तन इस भ्रमांड में
जब जाग जायेगी हर वो सोई भावना
बदल जायेगी हर प्रथा, हर रसम

शुरू हो चुकी है यह कहानी
शायद अभी नहीं सुनी है तुमने
जब चलेगा संपूर्ण बदलाव का चक्र
सोये नहीं रेह पाओगे

सवाल-जवाब

हर नज़र में एक सवाल है
शायद अभी जवाब मिलना है मुश्किल
पर जवाब कि किसे है परवाह
मिले नहीं तभी तोह सवाल का मज़ा है