Words

(dhundh ki) apni rajai mein simte
us chaand ko
haule se chooma maine
aaj ki raat
ye chaand bhi
surkh-haya roshan hua hai

a feeble attempt at translation…
moon

snuggled up in own blanket (of fog)
i kissed,
that moon tenderly
tonight
this moon has
shined with a blushed-shyness

aankhen, jo ban gayi hain honth mere
aur honth, jo ban gaye hain aankhen

aankhen, chhu ke aati hain baar-baar
aur honth, padhte rehte hain bus
us chaand chehre ko

is shareer ishq ne
sab ulta kar diya hai

everything has turned upside down

eyes, that have turned into lips
and lips, that have turned into eyes

eyes, caress it many times
and lips, keep on reading
that moon-face only

this impish love has

koi to hai,
jiska naam lene se
aankhen muskurane lagi hain,
gungunane lagi hai ye fiza
aur dhoop khil uthi hai sardi ki is saleti subah mein
koi to hai woh!

is baar jab miloonga us se
ginoonga ek ek palak us ki

this time when i meet her
i’ll count every eye-lash of hers

a coin-poem spinning round
and rapid
and round
it has to come to rest
make noise
and be of some use

a log-in poem
you start typing it
and it helps itself soon
someone remembers it for you
somewhere in an other conscience
like password help

a festering wound poem
has to be filled up
with ointment of feelings
and bandaged with words
it won’t let you rest
until it heals itself

a poem is everywhere
all you have to do

a feeble attempt at translation.

beyond these words
written for the tongue
there is a different world
of touch,
of feelings
without language…
…
her touch,
seeping from the fingers’ pores
waves in the veins
throbs as music beats
…
something which the eyes can’t read
and the ears can’t listen
which, feelings
can only touch
it’s a poem like that
that’s her being with me, is like

we come across so many people in life. familiar, unfamiliar, people whom we like, and some perhaps dislike. faces which generate an instant smile, others whom we might even frown upon. friends, for whom we wait on our side of the road, with open arms, as they come towards us. and loves, for whom we can’t wait any more and want to run into their arms, across that busy road.

we met this sunday afternoon at the ‘sahitya academy’ intersection. and m glad i resisted my urge to run & hug her, blindly crossing the busy road 🙂 there was an art exhibition on, which she’d seen already, but wanted to go through again, with me in tow.

i liked the sculptures, she liked the paintings, ‘histoscapes’ more. of all the exhibits, i think our unanimous favourite was a tribal couple’s sculpture. they carried their whole material belongings with them, and perhaps love in their heart. the best bit was how the woman carried a hen, a pot and practically her whole existence in a wicker basket. funny, how we see love in inanimate objects. or is it somewhere within us?

roaming through c.p., sitting nowhere in particular, eating bhel and patties and sipping mountain dew and chai…we almost talked nothing, an occasional remark, a chiding, a question, some answers…or it seems that howsoever much she talks, its not enough…then three hours went by…merged into moments that i can only recall now and whisper to myself…memories that we’ll share in the days to come, like how i forgot my wallet on the pattie-wallah’s stall and how i forgot to pay the cold drink vendor, how she wished for a chai and the chai-wallah materialised and how difficult it gradually became to take leave of each other. three pauses, totalling twenty minutes for a five minute distance and you can gauge how difficult it becomes to separate…

…hmmm. long after she’s gone, her presence still remains. her eyes, her smile, her voice and her touch, it’s not about the words i use, it’s the days i’m living. they are poetry now. do wish me more of these.