anil gupta's blog

uljhnao mein padi ho, kuchh anmayask khadi ho
na door ja paati ho, na hin peechhey mudi ho
jab thak jao, mujhey is asamnjas mein daltey huyey
to thoda hans dena, kya pata, judey mein tumharey
o amvasya ki kaali ghata, koi sitara purnima ka jadi ho

kuchh dhyan to rakha hota

jitni bhi thi galti meri,

thoda to socha hota

kya main kabhi kisee ki rah mein

koi kaantey  bota,

koi muhn pher kar,

mujhse is tarah rukhsat hota

aaj jab intzaar ki sila itna bada hai

to kisee ko kis tarah kehta,

yeh wo raat hai, jab koi nahin sota

meri tasweer par kisney aaj,

yeh raat ka kala rang pota

shayad ab kuch nahi  kehna

jisney bhi toda hai swapno ko

kaise man lu

uske dil mein koi dard nahi hota

aisa kyun ab lagney laga hai

kuchh jarurateyn tumhari ab kam honey lagi   hain

kisee ki yaad ab patjhad ki mani, mitti mein milney lagi hai

kyun ab kisee ke maathey par salvat nazar aati nahin

kyun kisee ka takleef tumari neend se tumhey ab uthati nahin

kahin aisa to nahin, kuchh khoney sa laga hai

uski chinta ke bina ab jeena  suhaney laga hai

when we fail, and cant stand up to own it

we start  looking for a reason

in season and out of season

will you also let me find one

if i tried hard

but do not

please do not let met find one

i must pursue the journey regardless

of how many times

i fail

dont come back

i am afraid of the showers

that often accompany

when we least expect them

and all the clothes i dry outside

get wet

so many times, i have tried to dry teh towel

undr fan

so that when you wipe your hairs you do not complain

but then this year, it has rained a lot

the moisture  has saturated the air

dont ask, why i am still thirsty

do not ask the washerman,

why did he spread the clothes on the street wire

why should he let every one see the externals

of those whose inners are empty

naked

and perhaps denuded of desires

when hoped wither away

in the sand

you try to build castles

but this year it has not rained enough

the sand will not set

and the castle will break down

is that why, it di dnot rain

well this year

Why do we pray

Is it that when our faith

Becomes weaker

We resort to prayers

Lest our weaknesses

Echo amidst the high mountains

And lead to landslide

Let us not

Wait till the fallen rocks

Come in the way

Do not answer my prayers

If you so feel

But at least

Accept the meager offerings

That I have brought

Do not measure their value in the

Rays that sparkle,

For it will not,

Do not value these by the

Aroma

That may charge you and make you dance

On the head of the pin

That fell down

From the hairs of the fairy

Who you had sent

Other day

To persuade me to go back

No, nothing will

Really tell you the value

But then should

You really care for value now

 

I have done little for you

While walking   through the forest

Or the hills

Except gathering a few stones

From the river banks

Which might nourish your soul

Do you want to take these from me

As a token of gratitude

 for all the order you Put

 in the chaos

 And without asking much in return

 

There was a little pony

With a very big bell

Hanging around her neck

Resonating with her mood

And swinging in a Pasteur

Like a breeze

Which had lost its way

Not tamed by the seasons

Smiling and laughing often without reasons

Often would not accept the calls

Of the mender

But then she was beyond mending