Yaadein

kuch yaadein apne aap me itni pyari hoti hain k unki yaad se bhi pyar ho jata hai. kuch ankahi baatein, kuch adhure sapne, kuch aisi cheezein jo apni gairmauzoodgi me bhi apna ehsaas chhod jati hain. zindagi bahut jaldi guzar jati hai peeche jane ki koi umeed bhi nahi hoti aise me kuch khatti meethi yaadein hi to hoti hain jo hame poori zindagi ki tasvee kuch hi minton mein dikha jati hain. agar zindagi khoobsurat banani hai to un yadon ko khubsurat banaya jaye, sawal ye uthta hai ke yaadein kaise khoobsuat ban sakti hain. bahut aasan hai har kaam aur ha baat jo ham karte hain wo kal yaadon ki shakal leti hai. use yaadgar banana na banana hamare haath me hai aur yaadein tabhi achchi ho sakti hain jab unki wajah achchi ho. jab bhi man udas hota hai to wo baatein yaad aati hain jinka sambandh hamare bureanubhavon se hota hai. sabhi ke paas aisi bahut si yaadein hoti hain jab wo khush hote hain, achcha mehsoos kate hain, inyaadon ka ek sangrah banana chahiye aur un dino ke liye ekatra karke rakhna chahiye jab hame uski zaroorat hoti hai. kabhi kabhi jinhe ham bahut chahte hain unki kuch batein hame chubh jati hain buri lagti hain tab apne khazane se unki wo batein nikalni chahiye jinse hame khushi mili thi us se man ka saara mail dhul jaata hai aur atma me nirmalta aa jati hai.

jan jaagran

dhuan dhuan hai aasman,

khaak ho rahi zameen

zar zar jazbaat hai

manhoosiyat har kahin

apang vyavastha

manvta hai sharmsaar

khud ham hi karte hain

apno ka vyapaar.

angaare bujhe hue

samjhaute ka santosh

lachaar samaj hai

par kisko de dosh!

why?

why??

question starts with every wrongs

never rises with rights,

why?

always it remains with poor

never asked from richies

why?

one use this words when its too late

never when its early

why?

it gives complaints

never satisfaction

why??

Does writing makes any sense

I am trying to write some thing which really make a sense
but from last few hours I am feeling myself blank
it is hard to realise that i have no feelings to express
neither recent attack on taj nor political issues
not a single thought about economic crunch
nothing about dip in oil price
because a number of eminent people are there
to write about and to analyse,
but does writing makes any sense ?
does it improves any of these things happening around?
the questions are almost unanswered,
I am not hurt, not depressed, not worried even
but why ???
who can answer me??
after a long struggle inside me I found one; who can!
and that's none other than me
I kept questioning myself,
are we really sorry for any kind of distress??
how many of "me" are going to change ?
all "me" will continue their lives after enjoying these news as their tea time gossip
cursing politicians, showing their concern towards economy,
watching live footage on television screen
but how it benefits ?
is it a kind of entertainig movie or a daily soap ?
what we really doing for us?
we never use to do anything for anyone else ,
we need to realise this that if we want things to change we should change ourselves.
to change the system in a fortnight is not easy, but change is possible
how a few people can work so efficiently, with a perfect planning
and a million of people are just spectators of death dance?
hard to think but easy to answer: what can I do!
just a blame game and all over?
I want to write something which can spark the rdx inside us
which can compell us to snatch ourselves from the system, corruption and injustice
which can really work; but fortunately or unfortunately
I havent got that to write....

Is it....

I had seen him,in morning

very happy, showing his grin

looking for some one impatiently

coming out again and again;

one hand holding the other,

facial glow was clear form distance

unable to stop his spontanous smile;

jaws are poured out

it was noon,but there was 

slight difference in him

his blushed face was like

sheded flower

smile was

playing hide and seek

looking little spent

but the eyes were on the street

unblinked,tired

now, he was not coming out

he was sitting outside only,

i doubt, he was aware

It was evening...

there was no change in his position

street was covered with the blanket

of darkness

his vision was blurred

a thread of water was glittering

extended to his cheeks

but, stone vision was still on the street

suddenly, he laughed,

 than smiled shaking his head

looked at street, once again

an intense pain was in his eyes

he thought of some thing

some work, he was full of energy

he seemed to be in hurry

he entered inside,

opened his laptop, and said 

oh I had to complete this today

what the hell I was doing.......

The runway

I found myself running for something

for what i was very much fond of

an endless walk on a lonely dark street

where difficult for one to find the other hand

something can be seen blurred there

which i was trying to see, but wasn't visible

the search was taking an imaginary shape

I had felt the sitis for the destiny,

was tired, not ready to give up

desiring for a glimse of the fate

every stone was a part of my journey

each particle was witness of my enthu

who knows where this walk will get  rest

where the else will be mentined

wheather footprints will remain or ruined

there is neither return ticket available

nor the choice to get stagnant

only one of the all rest is known

i will witness the whole, 

with my same unsatisfied thirst........

vartamaan

uljhanon se bhare is jahan me koi ek kinare ko rota hai,

doobte jahaaz me kashti ke sahare ko rota hai

laazmi hai rona magar,

ilm ho ke is rone me aage wo kya khota hai