PAIN OF A BROKEN ARTIFACT

I am the antique artifact

 That was once adorning your rack,

That was once your pride and other’s envy,

 A mute witness of your smiles and sorrows.

One day I tumbled out of your hands,

Crumbled into fragments,

You cuddle me with affection,

My sharp edges pierce into your soft palms,

Then you threw me out of your window.

Laying outside the window,

I see whenever you come into the room,

Your eyes fly towards the vacant rack,

You rotate your fingers on it with much affection

Clouds of sorrow shadows your face,

You stealthily wipe your eyes with your skirt,

Restlessly stroll throughout the room.

It’s true that those days of your care hurt me,

Those moments of your smile haunt me,

Still, I am not worried about my fate,

Soil was my origin; the soil will be my destination,

I am in my deserving place.

But I can’t see your gloomy face,

Do me a favor,

Come outside; dig a pit,

 Bury me in it,

Forget me, be happy and enjoy your life.

THROW ME AWAY

I am an antique artifact,

That you once bought from the market,

With keen interest and affection,

Kept me carefully on your shelf,

In your drawing room.

Every morning,

You care to clean dust out of my surface,

Gently with your velvety fingers,

Affectionately kiss my face,

Feel proud of my presence,

At your place.

That day, in some careless moment,

I tumbled out of your hands,

Crumbled into pieces,

With me your heart collapsed,

Tears flood down your eyes.

You cuddle my fragments,

Assembled them with glue,

Put me back on your rack,

With that much care and affection

As earlier.

Now, every time you see me,

You notice my cracks,

Your face turns pale,

The eyes that glitter with delight earlier,

Turns gloom with sorrow.

It hurts me,

I feel shy about your sorrow,

Why so much attachment with an artifact?

It’s not convincing,

It does not befit your Excellency,

It’s inauspicious

To keep a broken artifact at home,

Send me to the place a waste most deserve,

Throw me out of the window,

Into the gutter,

Forget about my presence.

TELL ME WHY

The color and luster were there earlier,

                       In the garden of the spring; but,

They were not affecting

                          The flight of my imagination.

The cold breeze used to blow,

                       From the core of the hills; but,

My heart was not vibrating,

                                    In its sensational touch.

The moon was scattering its splendor

                    From the courtyard of the sky; but,

The beam was not igniting

                            The cords of my emotions.

The cuckoo used to practice melody,

       On the branches of mango trees; but,

For me it was nothing more than,

                      The natural twitter of a bird.

I find behavioral changes in me these days,

                     That I think you do have their answers.

Tell me, why flowers of the spring

                   Are tempting my emotions nowadays?

Why is the cool gust thrilling,

                     My body and soul these days?

Why is the moonlit titillating,

                                   My heart as is touches me?

Why is the cuckoo singing,

                         In a romantic tone these days?

Are all these happening,

                           Due to your arrival in my life?

Am I passing through,

                   The heavenly corridor called love?

तुम कहो क्यूं

वसंत के बगीचे में पहले भी वह रंग ओ रौनक थी, मगर,

मेरे मन के फूल पर उनकी कोई असर न था। 

पहाडों के सीने से ठंडी हवाओं की आवक पहले भी थी, मगर,

मेरा कलेजा उसकी चुभन से कभी थर्राता न था। 

आसमान के आंगन से चांद पहले भी श्वेत हलस बिखेरता था, मगर,

मेरी भावना की परिधि में कोई उजाला पहुंचता ही  न था। 

आम के उपवन में कोयल पहले भी सुर साधना करती थी, मगर,

मेरे लिए वह सिर्फ एक मामुली चहचहाहट से ज्यादा न था। 

तुम कहो,

क्यूं आज वसंत के गुल दिल को इतना लुभाती है ?  

 ठंडी हवा क्यूं आज  तन मन को रोमांचित करती है ?  

क्यूं चाँदनी आज दिल को इतने प्यार से गुदगुदाती है ? 

आज क्यूं कोयल मिलन का सुर विखेरे नजर आती है ? 

क्या यह तेरे आवन का असर है ?

या फिर इसकी वजह कुछ और है ?

TEACHER’S DAY

This day in this advanced age,

When I look back into my days at the school,

Analyze your words, advice, actions,

My reactions and valuations of them then,

I realize the truths of your words,

Understand the gravity of your advice,

Feel the justifications of your actions.

My parents gave me life,

Then you descend as an angel in it,

Polish it with your affectionate wisdom,

Shape up the raw mud into an artifact.

You fill up the blank disc of my brain with facts,

Pour character and quality into it,

Carry out honestly the responsibilities,

Those the society entrusted to you.

Today,

I reap the rewards, of the lines I had accepted,

Paid the penalty, for those that I had ignored.

Life takes huge fees of experiences,

To teach the right things,

To show the right ways,

Those you taught in my school days,

Those you showed me decades ago,

Without demanding a return.

How much I give you

For all those I took from you,

Just this much tribute,

Just a few humble words,

And a hearty salute,

On this teacher’s day,

To you, my teachers

And all teachers on the earth.

The letter to you

My dearest,

Before the lights of my hope extinguished,

Before I succumb to depression due to solitude,

Your letter reached me.

My address written on the cover revealed,

That your fingers were trembling while writing,

Why so?

It has been a while since you left,

But have you ever notice my love for you decreasing?

I do not distance you from my heart even for a split moment,

Then why was this fast throbbing of your heart?

On opening the letter I found some words erased,

I comprehend you were crying.

Why so?

Do you not trust me or know my vibration?

Do not you know I can tolerate everything but your tears?

My eyes started raining,

Pondering over the wasted pearls of your eyes,

The uncontrollable flood of my drops,

 Wiped out the remnant words of your letter,

I neither read nor write anything in it,

Simply I wrapped the ocean in the letter and posted it for you,

I believe your heart will be able to measure its warmth.

Lo, Behold! I forget to write your address on the cover,

But you never mind, stay assured,

The postman will understand the destination from its pink color,

After all, everyone knows about our love story,

Moreover, he knows, no one other than me is such a crazy adorer.

DO YOU KNOW HOW ?

Despite being submerged in the ocean of tears,

I have presented the pearl of happiness at your feet.

While walking on the dark path of sorrow,

I did not forget to care for a smile on your lips.

Travelling through the humid desert of detachment.

I did not allow the rose of my trust on you to wither.

While climbing the impenetrable hill of loneliness,

My rhymes sung the melody of peace for your pleasure.

Struggling against the countercurrent of depression,

I maintained positivity in my approach.

Hauling the hellish days of life,

I did not deviate from the path of humanity.

Do you know how?

Do you know why?

Because love is a splendid, unique and positive internal flow,

That beautifies the persona of the adorer.

In love, a true adorer gulps poison with a smile,

And delivers nectar with the same smile.

The credit goes to you; I am so because of your love,

I am thankful to you for all that I have.