BAUKHLAHAT

Yeh baukhlahat hi hai ki tu kuchh kabhi kahta nahi
Yah baukhlahat hi hai ki tu chup kabhi rahta nahi..

Vyadhi ki rekhayein kitni,  kitni dhariyan waqt ki....
Tere chehre ki dasha jo,          hai wahi sansaar ki..
Khich li itni lakiere        is paar ki kuchh us par ki...

Main nahi kahta ki yah nadiyan hai mere mulk ki...
Main nahi kahta ki yah jungle hai mere deshh ka..

Tu mahaj ab ek insaan,  insaan ki hi khaal
mein..
Bat gaya hai anginat,  anginat adhoore bhaag mein,

Ho gayi hai hadd siyasat ki,  jahan dekho wahan...
Chal rahe hai bhaag karte,  hai jahan jata wahan...

Main wahin maujood tha,  jab bat rahi thi chaukhatein..
Main wahin maujood tha jab,  cheekhti thin chaukhatein..

Haan naam mera waqt hai,  main kisi ka hun nahi...
Bat saka na main kisi mein,  hukumat mujhpar hai nahi...

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

Everything speaks. yes everything. sometime we don't have the eyes to listen to them. yes eyes.
The most profound pure and prudent is the sound of silence. It do not filters from the eardrum but from the veil of emotions, dragged down from the river of tears burried within, like the black gold burried in between the layers of sedimentary rocks.
The melody is the real healer of the problems created by our own psych
Engulfed into our world of  philosophy which no one seems to care but yoo!!

Give it a shot, but don't drag youself in the adventures of romance. Yes I heard there is a language of eyes also. The lovebirds learn by it's own. Don't try to listen to the sound of your own beat.

I am not rich so I have NotRich friend. I am not famous so I have NotFamous friends. I am just me so I have just... real friends. They also speaks a very different language that make me laugh it soothes the unpampered little rascal called HEART. It needs pampering though we don't understand and call it depression. So....
We laugh, we blabber, we talk nothing wise but total waste but that doesn't make the conversation unreal or total garbage. It's the remedy to my heart and theirs also.

But when we are not together or when the only accomplishment I have is silence. Then it was The SOUND OF SILENCE which pacify the heart.

Tu Surya Hai...

Tu Surya Hai
Tu tej Hai
Tu urja ka strot Hai...


Ye manjilein
Ye raste
Tujhko nahi
Sabko mile
Tu chal Jara
Aage to badh
Tu ret par
pagchihn garh
Bekhauf tu
Paida hua
Toh bhay Abhi
Kis baat ka
Kokh se
Tu chal Raha
Aur mrityu
Tak tu jayega
To manan
Chintan hi kyun
...Jab athak
Chalna hi Hai
Aag se kyun
Dar Raha
Jab tujhe
Jalna hi Hai..
Tu ban
Udaharan
Jeet ka..
Tu jeet ja
Yah kalchakra..
Ya ban
Udaharan
Haar ka..
Aur jeet ki
Taiyari Kar
Tu bhool mat
Ekagra ban
Tu dhool ban
Chattan ban
Tu tham gaya
To Kya jiya
Tu ram gaya
To Kya jiya
Pul nadi par
Bhi kabhi
Aajivan
Tikte nahi
Toh Tere
Raste ki badha
kab talak
tik payegi
Tu thak gaya
Aaram Kar
Kal phir
Subah ek ayegi
Manav yahi
Vistar Hai
Sampoorn
Is brahmand ka
Jo Tha chala
Wah ban gaya
Itihas is
Sansar ka..
Tu pathik Tha
Janm se hi
Yatra tera
Kartavya Hai
Jeevan pariksha
Hai Teri
Kitna tu
Paripakva Hai
Garal tujhme
Rah Raha
Aur
Garal tujhme
Bah Raha
Tu som ki
Khwahish na Kar
Tere garhe
In rasto par
Lakhon
Karodo
Aayenge
Tere bagiche
Upvano mein
Yah bhi kabhi
Sustayenge..
Tu bhool mat
Tu ek pathik Hai
Margdarshak
...Hi pathik hai
Tu Surya Hai
Tu tej Hai
Tu urja ka
Strot Hai..

CHARACTER

In between the emotions lies the character. It is like the fossil, found between the layers of rock.
Defining a character should be an empirical study of the emotions a person is engulfed into.
But... The empirical study of pain, love, happiness, anger, etc is almost impossible. There is no scale to measure emotions so it is almost impossible to measure, what lies in between these so called emotions.
Agony, mirth, fear, revenge all are the children of some parent emotion. They are the reaction to some sound situation. And in these situations every person behave according to their will, experience, wit and most importantly according to the preoccupied bamboozling series of emotional tantrum.
           These presumptions leads to a very negative picture of someone's character or falsify the real character.
           Character can never be defined as it is an overcome of many factors. The study of individual's pchycology can only be interpreted but can not be cent percent verified and the same is true with character.

No to philosophy

Another day...beauty lies in the eyes of beholder.
Okay from that day onward they all are same, no moon beautiful, lebra and gali ka kutta they all are same, or the water of sewage and that of... Forget it...
I was happy m learning philosophy...cool

Another day... Happiness lies within our self.
Yeah right somewhere within.. Couldn't find the place seriously.. I failed in exam, a not of people surrounding me...full of empathy. Sympathy, apathy, sarcasm and bla bla bla...
But i was pretending  to be a guy happy at the movement...philosophically yes!!
Coz failure is a part of life...and a key to success. And I never gave it a second chance... Why me among failures.
(deep somewhere)I thought of blaming a lot many things...

Yet again... No one to be blamed for your failure...
Ah this bloody philosophy...
I want to blame the fucking things, fucking people and a lot more... I want to cry louder so that i could be myself...i want to get insulted so that i cud weep and laugh.
I want to fight so that i could beat up someone to pulp and vice-versa..
I want to be me first then some howard roark...
For one day ... No more fucking philosophy.

NOTE: Is blog ka kisi noun(name place animal thing emotions aur jo bhi hai se koi lena dena nahi hai... As i said i want to be me first.

Chandan ki bana ke kalam

Chandan ki bana ke kalam rakht ki shyahi usme bharta hun...

Likhta hun nazm-e-noor...mitakar noorani se darta hun...

Dopahar ki chhalni karti dhoop saebaan dupatta chehre par...

Yun masoom nigahein saaki si Qufr gar dhoop padhe is chehre par...

Yuh behissab charha fir chaand jikra jab humne tera farmaya...

Ba-adab aa gira pyale mein jab noor se noor chand ka takraya...

Pahli nazar ka ishq batalak zindagi tak likhta hun...

Chandan ki bana ke kalam ishq ki shyahi usme bharta hun...

Ek khat me ranjhe maznoo ke alfazo se jyada likhta hun...

Yun nazm adhuri thi ab tak tu sargam bankar aayi hai...

Diwarein mitti thi ab tak tu chehra ban ubhar aayi hai...

Asar se isha tak tu ayat hai tu qalma hai tu chahat hai...

Tu keral hai kashmir bhi hai tu mirza hai tu sahib hai...

Panno par meri shyahi hai, shyahi se meri kavita hai...

Shaql hai mere shishe ki, tu raton ko meri silwat hai...

Mere ishq ki pahli rehbar hai, meri maszid ka ab tu rab hai...

Har katra mere mausam ka ab tere sapne likhta hai

Ab kitab kam aur bas teri nazron ko hi padhta hun...

Sahsa!! Aaj kuch likhta hun...

Chandan ki bana ke kalam munasib phoolo ka ras bharta hun...

Meri jeewant tq ke liye ek khat tere pate pe likhta hun

Meri aankho ko aadat hai kuch khud ba khud kah jane ki...

Tu padh le saare shabd mere, kar umra kam kuch meri peshani ki...

Tujh sang ek ghar ka khwab hai kuch, tujh sang ek mahfil dekhi hai

Tujh sang saawan ke rango ki aur tujh brij ki holi dekhi hai...

Palak khule ya band rahe kuch tere sapne dekhe hain...

Bas tu tham jara mujhko...fir har zarre me hi mele hain...

Wo padhta hai ghat mera faad deta hai 

Tukde batora karta hun...

Aaj phir kuch likhta hun...

Chandan ki bana ke kalam sharab ki shyahi usme bharta hun...

Meri nabzon me jab chalti hai, tera har naqs mitati hai..

Jab seene me jal uthti hai teri tasveer jalati hai..

Jab aankho se pyala pita hun to surmayi saanjh ho jati hai..

Hai khush dil ki tu nahi hai ab, wafadar koi aur bhi hai...

Dosh mujhe ab kya koi de khud kalam sharabi kahti hai...

Main pyaale me jeeta rahta hun aur may mujhme jeeti rahti hai...

Aaj kuch likhta hun...

Chandan ki bana ke kalam!!

wazood..!!

Aaj phir barish huyi. Aankh khuli to nazar thaher gayi...aaj mitti ka rang kuch jyada gehra tha...raat bhar shayad baarish ne sone na diya ho mati ko... Jaise seenchta raha ho tanhai ko...aur ab us tanhai ke beejon se khusboo ne janam liya ho...parinde bhi jaise mausam ke bashinde ho...apne pedo ki kotwali se nikal kuch alag hi sfurti se udd rahe the...aaj bhi kuch badla nahi hai...par jab tum hote the toh saath chalta tha gila asma kabhi tumhe bhigata...aur main tumhe bheegta dekh yun hi doob jata tha...ye parinde bhi ghar tak aate the ek tumse milne...yun to hatheli aaj bhi dhoop se bacha leti hai mujhe...par tumhare dupatte se mausam badal jaya karta tha...!!
                     Sahsa!! Teri yadon ke wazood ne jhanjhor diya.. Jaise hawa ka tej jhonka barish ke baad ped se takraya ho aur pattiyon  ki boonde meri aankho se gujri hon...tere hone se aangan me maykhana tha parindon ka aur tum gungunati sakibala ban nihara karti thi kabhi tumhare shagird parindo ko aur kabhi ek chhupi nazar jise maine pakad liya ho tumhari chori samajhkar...aaj bhi qaid hai antarman mein...
Yun to tumhare hi the ye mausam saare...titliyan tumhare aangan ke phoolon se hi kyun ishq farmati thi...tumhare hathon se bani wo kyariyan mitti ki ek nirantar nadi si bahti thi...aaj bhi mere zehn me bah rahi hain...
Tere chulhe se nikla dhuan asman me badal ban jata tha... Rakh tere aangan ki mitti ko aur sondha kar deti thi...chandan teri baton se jharta tha...ek sphatik masoom gulabi sangmarmar ka chehra...mera sabse mahnga baghicha tha... Teri masumiyat hi thi ki raste kabhi raste nahi manzil lagte the...
Chand bhi tere jharonkhe pe jugnu ban jata tha aur tab chamakta tha jab tumhari palkein jhapka karti thi...
Barish aaj bhi boondein hi barsati hai par tere na hone se mann bhigta nahi hai... Diwarein bhig jati hain...tere naam ki cheenkho ko sonkh leti hain... Teri yadon ka mnzar kisi qafile se kam nahi hai... Abhi bhi main, akelapan, dooriyan, chand, bag, sham, sath mein baith kar muskura lete hain tere baare mein sochkar...
Tere bistar pe ab bhi sirf teri silwat hi rahti hai jahan kabhi teri chhuan mahka deti thi aalam aur ahsas sare...
Abhi bhi chandi ka matlab bas teri payal hi hota hai
Diwaron pe abhi bhi aaine ko teri hi aadat jo ho gayi hai...
Abhi bhi sharab... Utni hi wafadar aur gahri hai... Kuch pal saath rahti hai bilkul tere fitoor se nikli ho jaise...
Par maykhana tere ghar se paas nszar aata hai...!!

A diary in the shelf

Its been years i visited that shelf of my study. If i say that i was busy in shaping up my life, staggering for status, or was busy in architecting a huge magnigicant future, then it would not be cent percent true. Neither it was the fear which kept us apart for so long, because the honest love to my memories was resting in the citadel of heart and the intruder fear was not capable enof to bring me on knees to succint emotions.
It was raining the day it started and my unscheduled flyte to my oldest young born feelings was waiting when a sudden short lived heavy zephyr striked so hard that it not only dropped a diary of once being me, but also opened the gates of dam of memories. As i was alone in there so i asked myself "lets answer the courage and fight the danger" I closed the door and windows and picked up dat kaccha chittha of my short lived life. So before turning the pages of my unreadable writers skilled book of past, i thought of company, so i called whisky. Afterol m also a  scion of the clan where all we need is a reason to surprise our lever. And in a sec i have two, one was the diary and the other one you all are aware of "mausam".
                 I & the whiskey sipped each other and the shiverring hands became confident to turn the page. Swayed back to the place where i lived once. Kept turning the pages and the face exercised every emotion. And most of the times laughter wrapped in tears of sepration, nd the unconditional love to the affable ones. Friends with whom i lived a life, very small if measured i.e 4 fucking unforgettable years.
Big fights... now a chapter to laugh on. Very short lived at max for hours and turned out to be biggest reason to drink and to celebrate.
First one sided love. Actually no sided... Preity face, alluring smile, thin pink petel lips. And tinkering with freinds "bhai bhabhi kaisi lag rahi hain"
And bhabhi wasnt even aware of this secret marriage. 1 look was enough to smile whole day. And she never noticed. There is a good percent of pages in it occupied by her smiling face and myth that she smiled today. She noticed.
Engrossed into those pages which once was just a hobby, aroused from hero's of our time is now became a source of survival. Sleet of sweat over forehead (might whisky was the reason) brought me to the study.
Why they came, why some of them stays and others left, where is dat love of my life, suddenly we had a little time to talk, living alone. Once cribbed about every little thing and now didnt even bother to discuss anythng. Are we happy??
The questioned vanished as it came ofcourse we are happy.
That novice and immature pages of my writings taught me the biggest lesson. It goes on. Nythng happen but life goes on.
No matter who ll stay. The mahogany Us, will keep on darkening ourself with oil of experience.
Afterol we are the puppets of destiny. All we have is paths  and certain pages of diary of every road we took. Destination is something we cant predict...then her voice hits like squall. Yes dat very gal of my college occupying many pages n now my life. Today shez most beautiful then ever. Because those who are attached to the same thread of destiny will walk with us till the end. So we call them hamsafar.

law of conservation of fortune...!!

 law of conservation of fortune...!!

A night which made a fortune and the same night betrayed many...
I was there, a witness, in my own house with my other 51 alibis... me THE ACE OF SPADE. Ppl were yelling over my mates with whom i spent my whole life, they were cursing my beloved ones. but thanx to human contagious habits. They kept us alive till now.. and HOPEFULLY we will live forever .
If u want to fight evil u shud have ur ppl at your side but...here ppl play against themselves. And hope to buy all the luxury in a single hand.
But,  when many a fortune dies infront of me....then a single one became the owner of thousands dead smiles. Its not one won but just the transfer of fortune.
Its like energy...neither can be created nor cud be destroyed.

Hope is a good thing and good things never die... I heard it, ofcourse famous quote from shawshank redemption. Is it really true.
I believe becouse m not dead yet. What made the difference is the curruption in hope. Hope remain the same but it  no longer have  the same spirit. It is not hope here, what ppl believe in.. but greed of encashing dreams.
Lets play the next hand... After loosing a monthly instalment of his home in my dwelling, hopefully we will won, he uttered. And our kingdom of 52 kings laughed. They changed the meaning of hope. Those stoned faces...the playground of their faces changed their lines as the ppl from my kingdon hit their side of desk. Lines of bewilderness, then a rally of shifting emotions, fear, ecstacy, joy, agony, mirth, and many more a perfect show of " emotions". And not the least hope was their.
Some people believe thay they are talented, full of skills that they can count the cards, the very us, or simply their fortune can cheat the others
But in the perfect show of "auction of dreams" they seems little. Even they are the one who loose more than a novice. In their cases the greedy hope mixed with their so called talent provogue them to play for everything...
They have and to build the fort of their Fortune, but they won only the fencing for their dreams and who knows in the very next hand their fortune is building the dwelling of others.
They call me the biggest one among my alibis 'the ace of spade' but m nothing alone. I am the biggest of all if taken alone. But when it comes to power of togetherness m like others,equal to my alibis, because i m not the luck, i m not the reason of building or destroying destiny, not my other members. Its u who eagerly waits to be cheated by ur own self.
Victory is made up of so many failures, not urs but failure of others.

 If you won you are taking others fortune home, and whats the guarranty if dat fortune can not remain loyal to his master then for how long it will be their with u. According to law of conservation of fortune, ur victory of so many fortune will be transferred to some1 else and it will reach to the one from where in came...and the whole process is called as TIME.
Someones bad and someones good and here where ppl count hope. Yes hope is a good thing.
If u are not betting ur fortune (nor in my house only) ur time will remain the same...and ppl discovered a new word RISK.
This whole cycle made up LIFE.

it was an hour...

It was an hour
I dun know which one, as i call it 3rd.
Coz i slept at 1 am n the clock was strucking 5 but suddenly the jammed alchohal which i had till 12:30 flows again in the jammed vain which took me to the zero hour. Ofcourse it was 5 but it used to be zero when i was a kid, coz that was the time to wake up. Strange!!
I thought i was more senseful when i was 2 footiya as ppl
Used it in my reference. The demarcation of sahi n galat was too broad.
Ppl usually quote dat childrens do not have hatred but as i remember from my childhood, though very lil memory like blurred shards of mirror. I had had hatred.
I hated those... What i have became today.
Those who smoked in bus n my ma used to took a hanky over her face and that pallu of saaree over my head covering all six senses.
I hated those who used to abuse infront of my teachers home lambwalking with desi in their hands. Nd my beloved ideal stand in b/w dinner to shut the door.
I hated those who used to beat their wives to pulp. Nd my grandma used to shout my name to ignore the naked dance of inhumans humanity.
I was strong to survive the viscinity but smtimes my eyes rained. Without ny sign of emotion over my 10 years old face.
I cried...!!!
That was the time of war. Kargil...
Daily newspaper was full of patronage or deaths. Very lil difference it made b/w a shaheed n a dead. Thanks to bollywood specially manoj kumar who helped me to feel the difference. And then i heard operation vijay i was happy that we won. How??  Still flabbergasted.
5 ppl arrested along with 8 kg hemp. I hated, without even knowing a bit about it but inner soul hated.
Nite... I dun remember when i first saw night. It was just as i entered college, i guess.
Before i just knew to sleep.. Nd night prevails in stories, and it is beautiful, stars, moon n ol... But neva saw the darkest hour.
As time passed that border of sahi galat eroded. Time came when i first sipped whisky and made a ring of smoke... Just to prove ppl i can b wat i neva wanted to be. I can be like them. Forgetting my ideal, who i can never be. So sad, i lost myself.
How that border eroded??
Why i dun remember nythng when i first smoked or sipped.
That child is lost somewhere so his thoughts now all i have is a race of survival.
To earn, to spend, to buy luxury,
How n wat will i teach to my infants...
How ppl of our parents time managed. Then i laughed... Which bloody hour is this.
Why the hell i dun have 2 pegs more. So i cud sleep better.
Nd then
I wept with a sudden realization of my journey till now.