MiD NyT MiNuTeS

YEllOw BLuE   YEllOw   BLuE I sit here with a helmet on and Black Shoes which fit me loose... and they call it "THE SAFETY SHOES" Drivers and cleaners standing on the "LORRY" with their belts on, they look  so "FUNNY" asking me to check the DIP... DIP... DIP... YEllOw  BLuE   YEllOw   BLuE long hours and mundane work DIP... DIP... DIP...is what I do... YEllOw  BLuE   YEllOw   BLuE All I see around is  YEllOw  BLuE   YEllOw   BLuE All I smell around is Petrol...Diesel...Petrol...Diesel... All I do is DIP... DIP... DIP...

घरोंदे से बहार निकली उस चिड़िया को,  ना जाने क्यों हर कोई, बस दबोचना ही चाहता है ... वो पंख पसार के उड़ना चाहे, तो ना जाने क्यों हर कोई, उसके पंखो को बस  काटना ही चाहता है ...  वो आसमान की ऊचाइया छू कर भी, आज़ाद नहीं है , उसको ना जाने क्यों  हर कोई, बस ये जताना ही  चाहता है ...  एक माँ की ममता, एक बिटिया की  चंचलता   ... एक बहिन की मुस्कुराहट, एक  पत्नी  का प्यार ... सब कुछ भुला कर, जब सड़को पे बड़ी बेरहमी  से उसको घसीटा जाता है , उसके तन और मन के जर्जर होने के बाद,  जब उसको सब कुछ भुला देने  को कहा जाता है,  तो ना जाने क्यों, इस संसार से मेरा ये मन  उकता सा जाता है ... घरोंदे से बहार निकली उस चिड़िया को , ना जाने क्यों हर कोई बस दबोचना ही चाहता है ... 

छुट्टी का वो दिन और जाड़े की वो दोपहर,  मेरे घर की छत और छत पर बैठी,  मै और मेरी प्यारी सी माँ … माँ के कोमल आँचल में सिम्मट कर, बड़ी सहजता से हर दुख को भुला देती,  और आंसू कब   मुस्कराहट बन  जाते ,  पता भी ना चलता था … हालाकी आज भी  छुट्टी  का वही  दिन है,  वही जाड़े की दोपहर है … पर माँ का वो कोमल आँचल,  कही दूर सा हो गया है,  भूली बिसरी यादों में कही  खो सा गया है …    

A cool breeze swiping everything, Out of my mind, And taking away whole day’s dead beat… The sea waves coming by, And seducing me to go along with them, Go somewhere far off, To another World… To a place, where the morning, Starts with the birds chirruping around… To a place, where the waves, Gently goes by kissing your feet… To a place, where the blue sky, Stretches endlessly… To a place, where the day ends, In the silhouette, of twinkling stars… To a place, where love defines life, And life defines love…

Convocation is over, so is the college life and a new life has already begun, where I meet a whole lot of different people, not that I didn't meet a many in my college life, but this one is somewhat different from what it used to be back there, back there, we were always around the people of our own age group and more importantly with those of our own choice, so it will be highly depressing if we compare the two. This one is the one with a lot of  disparities ,a life where you meet people who say something, mean something else and at the same time its difficult to decipher what reaction they are trying to drive out from you. I did something out of the box, they labelled me "clever", then I tried to be with in the box, they labelled me "lazy".I tried to be silent,they labelled me boring then I tried to be myself they called me naive. But now I realize that this  labeling will never stop, what can really stop is I getting affected with them . One should b

The entire city looks like a gorgeous bride, wrapped up in a white saree of fog,  with the lights glittering like her heavy ornaments,  dolling up her beauty to an extent, unimaginable… a divine fragrance is blended with the air, as sweet as the scent of this pretty lady, filled up with the anxiety of the upcoming moments… The holy chants, ringing up the bells of a new life, filled up with hope, joy, rigor, prosperity, and a whole lot of dreams to unfurl…

A moment of joy, A moment of sadness, A moment of separation, A moment of love, A moment of hatred, A moment of trust, A moment of betrayal, Sometimes bringing about a huge smile, Sometimes causing tears to pass by, Sometimes giving immense  pleasure, Sometimes creating emotional confluence, Sometimes giving eternal satisfaction, Sometimes taking away all you have, All these moments wrap up together, Forming what we all call as life...

The G limps of a life, which I have left behind, passes by, bringing about smiles and tears of joy, remembering all the great times, we spent together... But at the same time desire to go back, and relive all those wonderful times, creates a conflux of emotions... and I start wondering how is happiness defined, and only one thing, strikes my mind that...  happiness is earned when shared...  

कुछ पल, कुछ लम्हे दिल को, जो छु जाते है और बीत जाने के बाद,  मन के किसी कोने में, तस्वीर की तरह सज जाते है... और फिर  खाली    बैठे,  अन्गिनात बार, याद बन के,   दबे पाँव  वो  आते है...  आँखों में  आसू ,  तो कभी,चहरे पे एक नटखट  मुस्कान छोड़ जाते है...  कभी  झगड़े की झनझनाहट, तो  कभी  ठहाको की  गर्गाराहट ,  घर के इस सन्नाटे में आज,  भी मुझे सुनाई देती है...  पर आज न जाने किस की तलाश में, उन से इतना दूर आ गई हु,  की वापस लौटने की राह ही, धुंधली पड़ गई है...  और  वो पल, वो लम्हे, मन के किसी कोने में, तस्वीर की तरह सज  के रह गए है... 

बंद कमरों से झांकती ये ज़िन्दगी, तुम से कभी तो मुझ से कभी,  कुछ मांगती ये ज़िन्दगी... हर पल, हर लम्हे में कुछ कहेती है, कभी कुशी तो, कभी गम को सहेति है... कहेना तो बहुत कुछ चाहती है, पर संसार के अन्गिन्नत परदों में कही, सिमट कर ही रह जाती है... फूल की कलि से ताज़ी थी,  जब नन्ही सि थी... ना जाने कितने सपने बुना करती थी, बादलो की सवारी, तो कभी तारो को छुने, की चाहत रखा करती थी...  पर जैसे जैसे बड़ी हुई, तो वो ताज़गी कही खो सि गई... बादल भी वही है, तारे भी वही, पर वो सपने देखने से, जाने क्यों डरने लगी है... बंद कमरों से झांकती ये ज़िन्दगी, तुम से कभी तो मुझ से कभी,  कुछ मांगती ये ज़िन्दगी...

All restless hearts on Earth, Running day in and day out... Some running away from the fear, Some running towards the comfort, All running in the direction of Oasis, Whose existence is just an illusion... All trying to grab the sand in their fist, Whose ultimate nature is to slip off... All trying to touch the horizon, Which stands far off, No matter how close it looks... You, me, all of us, together, we all, desire to come back home, home, the origin as well as the ultimate goal...

As I look around, I’m emotionally drenched, Drenched with a captivating scenery, A place prettier than any of your imaginations can go, An untouched beauty, So chaste and so pure… Patches of dark green and brown, Stretching all over, The never ending fields of light green… Grey clouds embracing a distant mountain, And a coy sunshine peeping in, From the paradise…  Rain drops from the sky, Drizzling on a solitary tree, Draining it up with immense pleasure… Grass floating on the silent water, Sharing the unsaid words of love… An aggressive stream flirting, With a rock coming in its way, Giving rise to pure white foams… A scented breeze flowing across My face… A breeze swiping everything out of my mind, And leaving me with nothing but, Immense ecstasy to cherish with forever… And each time I look around, I’m convinced by the fact, That the virgin beauty of nature Has immense power of making you, Fall in love with it, A love

I wish to be the gentle whisper, Of the cool breeze, Waking you up in the morning… I wish to be the calm gleam, Of rising sun, Cuddling you, as you open your eyes… I wish to be the smirking flowers, Dancing in the lawn, Watching you strolling around… I wish to be the tough rays, Of the noon, Averting you to go down the wrong way… I wish to be the spring, Revitalizing the withering leaves of fall… I wish to be the hillock, To let you rise high… I wish to be the gentle stream, Flowing beside silently…

It’s a beautiful evening outside… I’m sitting in my room, And myriad thoughts hammering in In my mind… Swinging between two states, Both equally desirable… Both equally imperative… But the heart all confused, If both will be given justice simultaneously or not… Seems life is being overburdened by over thinking, And I anticipate, this being just a phase, A phase that will pass out soon… 

Life seems to have taken a break, break from a lot of stuff. College is over, all friends gone (not literally but figuratively), all late night gossiping over, terrace talks gone. I’m suffering with a pause, I guess, where I’m finding it difficult to figure out, what is going to be the next move, what is going to be the next way, to go. I very often suffer from this when life just gets transitioned from, the one, where I used to be surrounded by countless number of people, some, for whom I yearn a lot, and some being the ones who made me realize their presence, by merely being there, pre-occupied in their own stuff, to the one, which looks to be a bit monotonous. I think I’m getting monotony strokes.  I feel confused, confused about past, present and future, all jamming up together in my mind. Memories from the past rising up like the aroma rising out of a stranger’s kitchen, all you can do is to admire the smell and can just crave for the delicious food but can’t go in there and

Life is a canvas of infinity, But this canvas is dingy unless The words seep in, And make it multihued… The baby pink, Giggling of a tot… Or the timid yellow, Confession of a school lad caught of stealing… The tranquil blue,  Consoling a doleful heart… Or the envious green, Jibber-Jabber of a jealous teenage girl… The romantic red, Merry bells of tender love… Or the woeful gray, Sobbing of a sulky betrayal… The rage full black, Roar of a heart infuriated with injustice… Or the serene white, Rising out of the silence, Modestly getting heard through the aid of trust…

As the final few days are approaching by, suddenly I’m realizing that I have tacitly fallen in love with this city, popularly known as “the pink city”. It’s actually a city with the touch of a town, a complete blend of culture and metropolitan charm. Choki Dhani It dishes out with fun in all possible dimensions, from the “loose control” place Nahargarh, whose ambiance allows you to play your adventure string; to the very “ethnical” choki dhaani, which introduces you with the real Rajasthan, Camel Rides, folk dances and the delicious Dal Batti Churma, the very specialties of Rajasthan all packed up in one; to the "natural scenery " of outskirts like bhangarh, samod, chool giri, etc which bestows you with the nature’s finest blessing; to the new and very “this and that” TC  which presents you with rock music and the western style bars. But all these exuberances becomes still as the night approaches by, and the city humbly sleeps, to rise up early, next morning and

Faces I see, Faces that surround me... As the time of parting is approaching by, Each time I see one, I suffer with an emotional conflict... Stream of thoughts just flows by... Some faces are the ones I’m terribly fond of, Others being the ones I just recognize... But each has a different story attached, A different story to tell... Each one brings back a déjà vu… A few bringing out a naughty smile, While a few causes’ tears to pass by, While a few others just pass by indiscriminate… And as the breeze of new life surges by, Soon they all are going to fly off, Never to come back...

There is a friend of mine who always have a very justified and clear explanation of everything concerning life, which most of us call “being on morally high ground” and there have been times when I too walk on the same road.  But then there is this crazy, rather stupid part of me which thinks that why should there be this abiding all the time, why is there always an inner voice preventing us to get out of our comfort zone and do something which we have never done, why is this inner voice always contradicting that particular flare of doing things our away. Rather than going “by the book”, why ain’t we bold enough to write our own book. And among all this thinking, there is this voice shouting out loudly from my conscience, all my contemplations point out towards one reason and that reason is “fear” . It’s the fear of being judged, it’s the fear of losing the so called self created “moral high ground”, also it’s the fear of latter regretting what we are doing now, fear of being c

When various beautiful moments have already decorated life’s book, Yet there are many to unfurl,   Its 21… When every nerve is overflowing with verve, And there is enough time to chase the dreams, Its 21… When love seems unblemished, And heart all confused if it’s real or fib, Its 21… When all of life’s ways are sassy, Yet residing on high moral ground, Its 21… When all feelings are fresh, And heart wants to dance on every rhythm, Its 21… Live it, love it, respect it Cause once gone…  It’s never going to come back ,your way…

A room which has embraced me with gentle tenderness, Will soon be resting silently in my memories… A room which will always remind me of me, Will always remind me of how I used to be… A huge window pane wrapped up with vibrant Times of yore, will soon be turning up, into a colorless sheet of glass… A clumsy wardrobe inhabiting, Multihued markets and streets Will soon be left alone, With the bare hangers, Clamoring out in loneliness… The walls that have been the witness of endless bitching sessions for years, Will soon be standing alone, Face to face admonishing each other… The pillow that has always been, My companion, at the time of catty fights, As well as, when a tear dropped down my eyes… Will soon not going to be there any more… A room that has beheld several Laughing moments will soon Be entering into a crying silence… A room which has embraced me with gentle tenderness, Will soon be resting silently in my memories… A room

Being the part of young India, I feel proud that I belong to the class which defines the future of this country. But when I look around and start contemplating about our compatibility towards the kind of development which is required to take this Nation to the new heights, I become a bit apprehensive. Are we actually ready to cope up with the huge expectations which our country demands of us?? Or are we just the “so called Y-GEN” , “dudes and chics” whose conversation hovers around the diverse  branded clothes we wear and flaunt or the swanky hotels we dine in and party, when almost half of our population do not even have the choice of attire, who lead their whole life with a single saree or dhoti, when we are under 50 in the ranking of World’s most hungry countries. Don’t you think we have much grave issues to discuss than the number of likes of our FB posts?? Sadly but candidly speaking we actually belong to the generation for which protest means “to hit a like button of the pic

No words floating in, But thoughts juggling in, into the deep silence, The silence which is doomed… Doomed with suspicion, A suspicion about the boat moving ahead On the virtuous path, Or it’s just a floating tramp. A suspicion about dreams transforming into goals, And then the goals into reality, Or are they going to remain   Just a few thoughts,   Brewing certain nights, Long and sleepless? No words floating in, But thoughts juggling in into the deep silence, The silence which is doomed…