I had
kept the doors shut .
I had
mummified my Self.
I had with rigorous
discipline
turned robotic.
I had
with meticulous care,
become an inanimate object.
Why?
Why did you come along?
Memories were locked
behind decades of last rites.
And feelings?
Feelings were buried
under layers of life.
I didn’t know
the woman was still alive.
How could she?
She had died
so many times.
But alas!
What quirk of Fate,
brought you ?
In the afternoon of my life.
Will you be the sanjivini
for a dead girl ?
Or yet again,
another undertaker.
LIVING WITH DESIRE
ReplyDeleteDesiring person enjoys the flavor of hundred years in each of his moment; hundred years are nothing to hopeless one!
Desire full hundred years would feel like a moment; else hopeless moments are boring like hundred years!
Anna Tyag!!!
Subah maati sungha karta hun, dophar khud san jaata hun,
Sham, ishe chaba kar bhi; jab kabra bana dhak jaata hun.
Phir wahi subah dikhti hai jab, yah kabr swayan hi khul jaati hai.
Phir wahi sab aaj nayee kal banker, satya hai kaal ka naya dastak.
Ham maan hi jaayen mrityu hi hai satya.
To kya bhukha rah kar purna karun yah satya.
Nahin! Phir maut kahan aayee meri; jab kabra bhi naa rahte, dhara par band.
Aaj mai kis kaal ko divya kahun, aur kis kaal ko satya.
Nitya marg mere kaise, yahan agyan nirantar danshte jaate.
Vigyan bachenge kahan dhara, jab nitya gyan tap ke dyote.
Main samajh sakun yah mrityu lok, jahan anna tyag bin nahi maut!