Dancing on the Street

Yesterday night, jogging on the street
You found that You were alone.
You looked around once then twice
You made sure there were no eyes.

A mischievous smile rose on your face
And you danced in middle of the road.
Danced and danced, until my dog barked
When you, my fancy dancer, ran like hell.

Rista Rista

कहीं से आती है आवाज़ रिस्ता रिस्ता
चलाचल राही, चंद कदम और भले

कहीं तो जा रहा है रास्ता रीस्ता रीस्ता
शायद उस चमन में ही आसरा मिले

आसमां की चादर में जी घुटता है मेरा
ऐ मेरे हमसफ़र चल इसे उतार चलें

Retakes on Love

मुशायरे में आप भी बोलिए

Meer Taqi Meer

दिल ये अत्फाल, जिद करता है इसे इश्क दिलाऊँ

बड़ा महंगा है वो खिलौना, तुझे कैसे समझाऊँ

Word Help ::
अत्फाल = childish

`Aman .. Retakes on Love

Sometimes I think that the way we think so differently about love at different times of our lives is really interesting and worth compiling. And as you can see, we have given it a name too :-) (Well, believe it or not ! but the joy of giving a name to the baby is a major reason people want to have babies :-)). Right now this compilation is one verse old. I invite all my dear friends and readers of this blog, if any, to raise it with their thoughts.

And the amazing thing is that, love, inspite of being the most touched upon topic in literature, is still going strong. Think of it, poets & writers have shredded and supposedly 'examined' every shred of this institution. Love seems to have been presented to us in every form ..be it compassion, or passion, or romance, or revenge..what not. Right from time poetry or prose got their meanings, love has always been in the vogue.

Anyways, why suddenly I am talking about love today is because I read about Meer Taqi Meer, an Urdu maestro from Delhi, who was considered as Ustad even by the likes of Ghalib and Zauq.
Heres what Ghalib said about him ..

रेखते के तुम ही उस्ताद नहीं हो "घालिब"

कहते हैं अगले ज़माने मैं कोई मीर भी था

Meer's father while on his deathbed asked him to walk the path of love. Most of Meer's poetry was inspired by love, life and things in between. Enjoy one of his 'kalaams' from the TeleSerial Mirza Ghalib.

कुछ मीठा हो जाये

छोटी इ की मात्रा

One frustating feature of Google's transliteration is its treatment of the छोटी इ की मात्रा. I am not sure if you too experienced this but whenever I try to put one on an alphabet, the मात्रा always shifts to the next alphabet. Surprisingly, on some days, these appear to be correct all of a sudden and then go back to being bad on other days. Their on-screen keyboard does help sometimes but not when the 'matra' is to be placed over the first alphabet in the word. I think that the fact that sometimes it appears correctly suggests that the transliterator as such registers them properly against the correct alphabet. However the renderer program might be buggy which displays it incorrectly sometimes (in fact most of the times) . Any Comments ?

Twenty Days of Childhood

Its been a few days now since I returned back from India. But am still feeling the hangover. A visit back home is like a visit back to the childhood. Sometimes I ponder if, given a chance, I would prefer to go back to my childhood? I am not sure. The irony is that today, when I have started realizing the joys of those wonder years, I am no more a child. And when I was, I didn't value them enough. So many things I took for granted as a kid! Being taken care of, by mommy, was undoubtedly the very essence of them all. Maa Tujhe Salaam.

Recollecting some thoughts from the last evening at home, I tried to pen them on the Airlines napkin during transit. If mummy sees this, a scolding for such a bad handwriting would sure be on the way :).

बीस दिन बचपन के ..

आज तेरी बाहों में जो
कल न जाने होगा कहाँ
आज तेरी आखों में माँ
कल से आखों का सपना

यह कुछ दिन थे जो तेरे साथ
जैसे बचपन लौटा बरसों बाद
वो बेफिक्री का अल्हड़ एहसास
बार बार आता है याद

प्यार का निवाला लीये
प्यार से खीलाती थी माँ
मंद सी पुरवाई सी
बालों को सहलाती थी माँ

नीवाई सी, माँ, वो तेरी रसोई
उसमें बैठ मेरा बातें बनाना
कभी काँधे पे तेरे रखके सर
नींद का वो करना बहाना
ज़रा सी चोट पे चिल्लाकर
तुझको डराना और सताना

पर कल से तो ये बस यादें होंगी
तेरा घर छोड़ उड़ जाऊँगा माँ मैं
आज रात भर तुझे हंसा कर
सुबह धुंध मे खो जाऊँगा मैं

वैसे तो सब कुछ है वहाँ
छूने को आसमान , रहने को बसेरा
पर न जाने क्यों तेरे बिन
जी नहीं लागे है माँ मेरा

हँसती बोलती उस भीड़ मे भी
खुद को तन्हा पाता हूँ मैं
बस सुन्न होकर पत्थर की तरह
जीये जाता हूँ माँ मैं