Crafting Poems

क्या तुम्हें वो रात याद है ? जब हमने घंटों बात की थी और तुम्हारी बातों के हर शब्द हम महसूस कर रहे थे| क्या तुम्हें वो रात याद है ? जब तुम्हारे हाथ मेरे हाथों को छू रहे थे उस पल हम तुम्हारे हाथों की लकीरें बन जाना चाहते थे|  क्या तुम्हें वो रात याद है? तुम्हारी नजरों के जुंबिश में हम खो चुके थे इन्हीं नजरों के ज़रिए तुम्हारे दिल में उतरना चाहते थे|  क्या तुम्हें वो रात याद है?  जब तुम हमारे साथ चल रहे थे और जाते जाते तुमने साथ ना होने का वादा किया था लेकिन मेरी रुह को यह मंजूर ना था और उस रात वह मुझे रुखसत करके चली गई| क्या तुम्हें वो रात याद है ||                                                                                                                     ...

(a short respond to the poem " do you have any regrets?" ) Hang me I am also a victim Of this dark world. An innocent criminal Of some unknown crime. Shoot me I am also supposed to die Cause I supported Those dark fantasies, Inherited and inspired.

(precisely responding to " has anyone heard from you lately" & " call long distance...") That phone call That ringing on the corner table Which no more rang after our last conversation. Now it's been ages That the phone never got picked up And since that day We lost our path. It's been a long gap Which I still remember its start. That shivering voice behind the call Do you know, how it felt on the other side? Today it seems I am hearing those shivering again. One phone call Even today I wait that to ring. What if that same voice could be heard! If that name reflects on the screen? Not sure how many times did the phone ring earlier. Unending conversations And of course the limitations with balances And charge. You don't know how much it meant those to me. My phone was full with these necessities. Today I am not bothered Whether it is full or dead Because there is no more of your sign And also not even mine. Today there are...

That One Day One day, to feel serene I had to push myself through the whole day That day, to reach A handsome me I had to push myself Through the whole day Yes, that day To reach a heavenly and delight I had to push myself Through the whole day Streams arose inside Couldn't contain the surprise After I had pushed Through the whole day The day became graceful It turned sublime When I had pushed myself Through the whole day I had to cross such a crisis I had seen the albatross I was drifting in the ordeal Flowing to the surreal. The sun was set The bright lights were floating I can recall the image As it was that day when I met you.

एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए तू क्यूं नहीं देखता मुझे, सबको देखते हुए तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए मैं रोज़ देखती हूँ तुझे घर आते हुए तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए और कई रातें निकल गयी हैं तुझे सोचते हुए तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए कल हिम्मत कर चली ही गयी थी घर तुम्हारे, सबके वहां होते हुए तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए पर कहना चाहती थी कल वो बात तुमसे, सबके सामने होते हुए  कि तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए एक उम्र बीत चुकी है तुझे चाहते हुए एक बार सुन ले मेरे दिल की जाते हुए के अब ना मैं रोक पाऊँगी इस दिल को धड़कते हुए तू आज भी बेखबर है सब जानते हुए

गिरगिट   खिलवाड़ नहीं सिर्फ, उम्मीदों से  अरमानो से  या किसानो से यह तो खेल गए उस ऊँगली से भी  जो चौदाह में दबाई, एक भरोसे का बटन वो कहते है, अच्छे  दिन  तोह  आगए , मैं पूछती हूँ पर कहा गए? क्या मोदी चाचा-अम्बानी ताऊ के साथ खा गए ? उन्नीस आ बैठा है गिरगिट की तरह, इतना समझलो भाजपा बोहुत मज़ा करलिया तुमने राज का  होगया जितना होना था घाटा पड़ेगा सबके लिए तुम्हे अब  जनता का करारा चाटा

                                                         Dystopia  You have made me shut up whenever i am trying to raise my voice. I am standing still, wanting peace, but you want war all the time. You want to leave a mark in history I want to leave a mark in people's hearts. On Republic day you wave the flag of lies, and make promises which are meant to be broken. Now cows have committed grievous crimes. Dalits flapping their wings in vain to fly with freedom yet, everyone is cloud blind. From children to old ones, tell me who is safe in this world. Your answer would be No one! We believe, we live in a democracy,but reality is a far cry from it.                                                       ...

                                                   Home bittersweet Home  As beautiful as the picturesque city of Kangra, A house which was locked for years, A city which is open for any and everyone A city with innocent and humble people, I am from there. At night it looks like Van Gogh's  starry night, A dark blue sky with a big moon you always want to catch. Each time I went there i felt closer to heaven. With all the cattle, I once was a shepherd. Drinking different flavored tea on the top of the mountain, everything is small when i look down. Played with snow , made a snow man, made angels, Who knew i will never see this again. Delhi is my home now! Staring at walls all time, buildings so tall they hide the sun. The city is a blur. The city is confused. Yet, I love one thing about it all, when the songs of love to a million gods, a harmony of ...

Tea Time at #3038 In 3038 C-3 Vasant Kunj, me and my nani live in different time zones. All day we move in varying speeds But when we sip tea we enter a strange realm of relief. She tells me  the back stories of the serials on star plus. I try to follow. "The summer will come just as severely as the winter." She says this for the 100th time but each time  with a sense of discovery, she lays down for me  carefully the extremities  of this city. She says, "Don't keep three of anything on your plate." I'm intrigued "Don't befriend boys" "Don't get a haircut on a Thursday" I try to understand Sometimes I can't She too doesn't get Why I stay up till 2 Why I study dance Or why I keep staring at my phone But at tea time  we try. I settle comfortably  in my spot on the carpet next to her the TV is on but the volume remains ...

अगर तुम न होते तो कैसा होता क्या ये जिंदगी ओर हसीन न होती क्या ये दुनिया तब एक रोशन जहां होता मैं शायद अब तक यूँ जिंदा न होता तुम अगर मुझको यूँ मिली न होती अगर तुम न होते तो कैसा होता ख्वाबों में तुम आती जब भी मैं सोता मगर तुम बिन ख्वाबों में एक बेरूखी होती क्या ये दुनिया तब एक रोशन जहां होता मैं इतना मासूम की हर बात पर रोता फिर तुम आकर सभांलती उन आंसुओं के मोती अगर तुम न होते तो कैसा होता मैं अगर गुस्से में बौखलाया न होता तुम शायद मेरी बाहों में न होती क्या ये दुनिया तब एक रोशन जहां होता जब भी लिखकर कलम को घिस रहा होता हर शब्द-शब्द में सिर्फ तुम बस रही होती अगर तुम न होते तो कैसा होता क्या ये दुनिया तब एक रोशन जहां होता

Chowkidaar  Main phir chillai 'bachao bachao' Ghar mein ghus aaya chor hai Chowkidaar bhai jaldi aao Kehta hai jan ko dhan dega bhao Par sab apni jeb mein daale hai Main phir chillai ‘bhagao bhagao’ Bhuk se mar raha hai pura gaon Par yeh muh cash se bhar ke bhaage hai Chowkidaar bhai jaldi aao Har ped ko kehta hai aag lagao Khud kissi shaaka mein ja baitha hai Main phir chillai ‘bhagao bhagao’ Paanch saal se chupa rakhi hai meri cow Ab uski rakhsha kaise karte hai? Chowkidaar bhai jaldi aao Dekha toh chowkidaar hi duba raha tha nao Pagdi badal badal ke sabko topi pehnai hai Main phir chillai ‘bhagao bhagao’ Chowkidaar bhai ab chale hi jao

There once was a lord of the forest, It dwelled in the great hills and nourished the land But People prayed because this lord was the last. They sang songs to lament the forest, They passed stories to remember that in this land; There once was a lord of the forest. The lord knew it would soon cease to exist  so it shed its skin, crawled into its shell to prepare But People prayed because this lord was the last. So in deep slumber fell the lord of the forest, It grew weary, because the songs said it was the end; 'There once was a lord of the forest'. The land flourished just as it had in the past The lord forgot to hear, so did mankind, But people prayed because this lord was the last. Now the gods laugh, at this people and this forest They laugh because this message is still carried in the wind; ‘There once was a lord of the forest, But People prayed because this lord was the last’.

Call me human “A historical account of the sixty two years Indo- Naga war, And the story of those who were never allowed to tell it” Kaka. D. Iralu I am but a nameless being I drift through life Hidden in the shadows Of the empire They who rule Refuse, time and again. For my history is shameful So they bury the shame Now there is nothing , Nothing to speak of Armed men have long trampled Erased and silenced Many, many, good people Yet I exist Nameless, as you call me. But if you ask, I will tell you I will tell you to call me ‘ human’ So ask, for I wish to be called    Human.

I was on a journey,  A journey written so profound.  I planned to travel the directions,  But so was a question hanging deep down around.  My travelogue started with North,  Boundaries built so stiff, the people so mundane.  Tiny houses, visible Barren land,  Encroachers sea lift, the air sobbing in pain.  Steps more ahead, I reached the Centre and the East,  Enriched with history, dampened by the light.  Old walls told me the story,  Of superstitious valour, and hidden behind the fright. Daunted through the West, the end in the South I preached,  The world here knew riches, with dumb voices beneath.  My travel ended in delight, but the shadow held its curse,  It framed a question, an answer to the future adverse.  The people know what's coming forth.  The people know the bad deeds lying behind.  We are the only answer to the dark soot disaster,  We, the only hope to hold fi...

Raged Make up She wish she could put the black bindi from her forehead to her cleavage as a black dot of shame for all the locked constant stares just below her neck She wish she could fill the parting line of her hair with the black eye liner whenever the lines are crossed and NO has been taken for any other meaning She wish she could wrap her braid around her neck like a necklace and change her anklets, her bangles into rusted iron chains whenever the path to justice feels like a never ending circle It's boiling  rage within her is boiling the color of her lipstick, her nails turn into the color of her rage she doesn't know Where will it                          lead her?

Here On this corner of the street Stood a madman who never moved, Who lived Bare-bodied and sans inhibition. He put his chair On the crack on the sidewalk and read newspapers he got for free.  He didn't wear the religious robe, The daily langar food sufficed. There wasn't any shop next to the spot Until there soon was: a meat shop. The meat-seller was kind and the two men would smile, Unbothered by each other's existence. "He doesn't stand on my entrance does he?" he said when inquired by the banker who couldn't stand his nine-months old doll puking on him again that morning.  In April came the monsoon and the storm, But the old man on the street would still never move as he stood Bare bodied and sans inhibition. So they said "How could he not even sleep?" "How could he never fall sick?" "How could he not put a shirt on?" "How could they allow him?" And then came July with the su...

Her Honour The bed was wet her pillow wept the room groaned when she roared, in the dense dark she was merely a lark. When She was broken the dawn too broke. What they said- “It was his right as it was his night.” She carved her honour from the grave of that bed. And that transformed her core- I am not a victim I won't sell my story, at the cost of societal sympathy I won't be another Indian bride I won't be a bait to the family's pride. She pulled her hair chopped it down she transferred the burden of her ring to "his society” which stings. They kept saying it was his right. There she killed her plight, And took her flight.                                      - Preeti