जब आप सामने होते हो

                                                         जब आप सामने होते हो;
                                                    तो आसमान में तारे टिमटिमाते हें,
                                                          चाँद मंद मंद मुस्कुराता है,
                                             वर्ना, नजर में बेनूर अंधेरा छा जाता है,
                                              दिल गहरे काले सन्नाटे में डूब जाता है।

                                                      जब आप सामने होते हो;
                                                      तो कोयल गाना गाती है,
                                               बसंत फूलों कि बहार सजाता है,
                                                  वर्ना,  सूरज आग उगलता है,
                                            मेरे मन का वाग झुलस झुलस जाता है।
  
                                                         जब आप सामने होते हो;
                                                   जमीन पर जन्नत उतर आती है,
                                          हवा में फूलों की भीनी भीनी खुशबू बिखेरजाते हैं,
                                             वर्ना, हमारे लिए नरक का दरवाजे खुल जाते हैं,
                                             हम पीड़ा से हर पल हजार बार मर मर जाते हैं। 
  
                                                         जब आप सामने होते हो;    
                                                     तो कविता छंदमय हो जाती है,
                                                शव्द-ओ-भाव ताल में नाचने लगते हैं,
                                            वर्ना, मेरे लेख पागल का प्रलाप हो जाता है,
                                                   मुझसे कविता की हत्या हो जाती है। 

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Between good and evil,

Truth and falsehood,

Trust and deception,

Love and hate,

Honesty and skulduggery,

Openness and stealthy,

Things representing God and godliness,

Seems losing battles now a days,

To the representatives of the devil and wickedness.

But truth, trust, honesty, openness,

Being blessed from god the creator himself,

Are mightier than their opponents,

To win wars of contentment

Even after losing insignificant materialistic battles,

With their unparalleled weapons

Of patience, perseverance and devotion.

On this great occasion of Christmas,

You decide which side to stay,

God’s will or devil’s bill:

You choose which ball to play,

Principled tough days or undisciplined easy ways;

You snatch whatever you prefer,
Momentary happiness or eternal satisfaction:

You detect what you wish from life,

Peace of soul or material possessions.

The ball is in your court.

THE GRIEF 1

The cloud of grief from my sky won’t ever disappear,

Because your aloofness and my loneliness won’t ever end.

I won’t ever deviate from the path of love,

And you won’t ever shift from your childish convictions.

There won’t be an end to my unsuccessful efforts,

To marginalize the grief of your exit in my own way.

Glasses and alcohol would continue to congregate,

And produce a dragon in me each evening,

Eating away my body from within gradually,

The way my obsession for you devours my soul.

 I am a small man but honest and straightforward,

Devoted to you, stubborn in my vows and selfless in love.

My pious devotion will restrain me from embarrassing you,

The human in me would prefer to burn within than to trouble you.

Hence, I won’t inform you of my misery anymore,

And put a human in you, if any, in concern or sorrow.

THE GRIEF

The lover in him,

Failed to digest the grief of her departure,

Gulped a bottle of whiskey,

With the hope of a momentary relief.

It gradually went on consuming his body.

But failed to overpower his soul,

Which continued to roam in her thought,

And remain sad.

Even though the red devil made a dragon of him,

In the worst stage of its fury,

His tongue did not spit fire at her name,

And tarnish the glory of love,

He went on increasing the dose,

Until his physical system collapse,

In the arms of some unknown people,

Who took pity to bring home his living corpse.

He spread unconscious on the bed,

To awake again in the next morning,

To love and pray again for her,

To read and write yet again for her.

FOREVER

One of my good friends asked me,

“How long will you love her?”

I replied, “Forever”

He questioned, “How long is your forever?”

I clarified,

“As long as my eyes are open,

I will read her verse.

As long as I can hold my pen,

I will write for her.

As long as my tongue can communicate,

I will encourage her.

As long as my brain functions,

I will worship her.

I will carry her in my heart

To my grave”.

ZOMBIE

I was in a deathlike suspended animation,

Having no goal, no ambition of my own.

You re-awake and resurrect me,

To laugh and play with thee.

Zombify me by injecting the powders of adoration

And deep passion for you into my stream.

Being your zombie, I live only for you,

Smile, cry, run, fly, walk, and stop at your hint.

Having no independent thought process,

I use your brain to think, verse to sing,

Wait all day, whole night for your words to obey,

Catch instantly the rare messages you convey.

If you feel, I am now of no use for thee,

Take it away, the air you inserted in me,

But do not play hide and seek with me,

Do not testify my loyalty, it’s solely for thee.

Because I am not a fun, I am your creation, your zombie.

Pearl

How far you can block your ears,

To the sincere cry of my selfless affection?

How long you can keep your eyes off,

From my honest and innocent love-laden face?

Even severe penance of the sage Vishvamitra,

Was broken successfully by the devotion of Menaka,

Today or tomorrow, your hard shell will open up for me,

With the soft blow of my perseverance and passion for you.

And the pearl of your beautiful heart will be mine.

But I am not Menaka, who came to seduce and divert you,

From the way of your penance, aspirations and growth.

Rather, I would remain a companion, an inspiration,

For you on your glorious voyage, splendid mission.

I am not that jewel smith who takes away the pearl

To enrich himself, breaks it for his own happiness,

Rather, I will keep it safe wrapped in the silken cloth,

Of my affection and care all my life,

In the treasury of my heart with much respect,

And will never allow the smoke and dirt of sorrow

To reach and hurt you or tarnish your worth.

Sincerely yours.

GARLAND

Being the empress of my heart,

When you ride the crown of my thoughts,

My closed eyes visualize the glow of your pretty face,

Mind reflects your gracious personality,

Soul sinks in pleasant dreams.

I robotically sit-down with my pen,

To knit a garland of verse to befit your neck,

With the needle of my novice creativity,

Over the thread of my intense devotion,

Using all my prudence, patience and time.

Keeping in view your likes and dislikes,

I pick the flowers of words very cautiously,

From the garden of my bosom,

Place each of them very judiciously,

According to their colors and essence,

Affectionately I pick a few pearls from your verses,

With the two fingers of my wisdom and artistry,

Spray the scent of my inventiveness while knitting,

With a view to humbly acknowledge my adoration,

Towards you and the grandeur of your creation.

Whether the world read me or not,

I never bother about that,

But when you grace a glance on the garland,

Touch it gently with affection,

Deliver a beam of smile in return,

I feel excited and rewarded,

Get the worth of my penmanship.

I DO NOT WRITE POEMS

I don’t own a drop from the ocean of knowledge,

Occupy an inch in the world of literature,

But when you, my muse,

My goddess of love appear, before my mind’s eye,

A thousand waves of emotions,

Dash on the coast of my soul,

Vibrate my enchanted heart,

Words spontaneously ooze out of my pen,

Scatter irrelevantly and incoherently on the paper,

Your kind soul calls it poem.

You name it poem,

Because the truth in my words,

The depth of my innocent devotion,

Ripple your emotions,

Synchronize with your feelings,

Generate the melody called love in your heart,

Inspire you to write for me, your muse.

I really don’t write poems.

UNMOVED

Gallons of water flowed in the Ganges,

Ever since, you forgot the way of my home.

Seedlings you saw planted on the roadside,

When you visited me last,

Have grown into big trees,

Changed the landscape

But I believe you will still locate my home,

With ease.

                                                

                                           Beards, mustaches throng carelessly on my face,

Making me a laughingstock,

Even at times a matter of fear,

 Among the children of the colony.

Tension and age

Draw lines on my forehead,

Faded the glow of my body,

Making me look older than my age,

But I know you would recognize me,

On the first sight.

                                                         

                                                 Despite the physical transformations

Of the things, my dear,

The loving heart underneath by bosom

Remained unchanged and yours.

 Your name echoes

In the surroundings when I hum,

The flair of my rhymes,

Emits your flavor with due affection,

I am still there where you left me,

Unaffected, unmoved internally by the time,

Carrying you in my heart.

“God’s will”

While my body lifted the burden of sins of the world,

Heart bled and humbly refuted their inhuman acts.

But my soul was at peace because of my firm faith,

On His sovereign control over the events, good or bad of my life.

I know I did not ever deviate from “God’s will” willingly,

So I was assured of His blessings kept in His bosom for me.

My confident eyes waited for the time of His intervention,

As I clung on to the “golden rules”, He laid for His creation.

The gates of the heaven will remain open for me I know,

Even though I went through the hall of the hell in my life.

IN YOUR ABSENCE

In your absence;

My sight becomes blurry,

 As a cataract of despair hovers over my vision.

Thoughts and emotions are scattered,

Shattering a poet in me to shape a captivating creation.

Words come out discordant like lunatic’s dialogue,

 Disabling me to thread a garland of verse worthy of you.

The bristles of the brush of my expertise abrades,

Forbidding me from painting your portrait on the canvas.

Ink from the pen of my imagination dries up,

Incapacitating my sagacity to carve a few lines in your invocation.

Nothing else can give me peace, happiness and creativity,

As I am buried in your thought,magnitude and devotion  .

It is not just difficult, but an impossible task for me,

To imagine about the journey of life,

In your absence.