Raste

चट्टानें बड़ी बड़ी तो क्या
रस्ते कठिन कठिन तो क्या
हम तो वो धारा जज़्बों की
बहती चलती रुकती ना

हर उम्मीद से ऊपर
हर एक मुश्किल से आगे
रस्ते रस्ते पर हाथ बटांते
नीवं रखते उस मंज़िल का

कुछ भी इंकलाबी कभी आसान था क्या?
चलने लायक रास्ता कभी समतल ,सामान था क्या?
नहीं,तभी तो दीवाने चलते हैं
उस कठिन रस्ते पर उभरते हैं

डामर और पत्थर पर ताज से चलते 
नव युग के निर्माण का भार दिल में भरके
चल पड़े हैं उस ओर , चट्टानों को लाँघ के
खुली आखों से सपने को साकार करते हुए ,हम Rivigo हैं 

Game

The pain is same,
The game is same,
The road is same,
We are all insane.

All in for a name,
All in for a fame,
Avoiding the hurt,the shame,
That’s not the game.

It all seems squalid,
Mushy,rotten,pallid
Desperate for anything solid
Figuring out Logic,getting it tallied

Let go on the slop,
Slide,who care if it flop,
Ignite life,beyond the thought,
In this moment, alive, not a bot

The pain is same,
The game is same,
The name is same,
From sane to insane

Games we play

The shades are pulled, the blanket is to the hilt,

Protective, making me feel like I am back in the womb,

Preventing me from everyone around me,

Hey wait, they didn’t cover me, I did.

I read somewhere, others being asses bring out your unsolved karma,

So the fucking truth, for it was me all along,

Others, they were just poor victims in my twisted game,

Game which I think I win,and the one I bloody always loose.

So the nose dive is mine, and so are the hidden layers,

Tagging them to others just make it easy to deal,

I got to love the vengeful,the revenge worthy,the nay sayers,

For all they do, is show me a mirror, allow me to itch the scab, letting me peal

Not meant to be lucid, nor to be profound,

Just the profane, inane, the nasty, the usually hidden around,

The meaning is just for me, and so is the truth,

Your truth is only clear to you, others, you can never bound.

Kal-Aaj-Kal

aaj phir kal ke kuch pal udhaar le liye,

aaj kee dor ko dheela chod,kal kee patang ke peeche duar pada mein,

kal ke hawai mahal aaj ke makan se nazuk par sundar

kal kee sadken,umeedon,khushion se liptee huee dikhtee hein

Guzra kal kee mittee liptee huee hai aaj ke aieene par,

Saaf hota nahin,ya shayad karna nahin chahta

lipta rehna chahta hoon guzre kal ke kambal mein,

aankhen moond ke unhee purani kahanion ke alag alag manzar jo dekh sakta hoon.

Dono hee kal kee suraton mein,kyon akela hoon lekin?

Shayad jo aaj saath hein, unko peeche chod aana padta hai,

Par kya bewkoofi hai,aaj ke aage-peeche hee zindagi baithee hue hai chup kar,

Pukar rahee mujhe,dheere se keh rahee,jo bhee hai,keval aaj hai

Luggage

We all feel that the kind of shit we are in today is unique to us,so much burden,so much pain,the guilt,the layers of hurt are the heaviest.
You don't know what i am going through is our war cry as we get up from our beds everyday and fight,fight for staying strong, staying sane and really try to find that elusive happiness.

For me this has been the case until I really saw that all the pain,the heaviness in shoulders and the heart , longing to be loved and accepted is there in each one of us and it exactly weighs the same in our heads.

Unless we open up and see,accept someones luggage ( not necessarily carry it, but just be open enough to see ) that they are carrying and i was surprised to see people carrying way way more heavy stuff than i ever have in my life.
But still they were trying,like all of us to find joy that is not some ephemeral, fleeting moment but just a way for being.

I still don't think i have really internalised what gratitude means but all i am sure of is that the load of grief and pain I carry has the same DNA as of the next person.It sure is lighter than his.

sab gam ko lekar chalte hein,
upar se muskurate,kahkahe lagate,
uth te,chalte,phirte hein,
girte aur sambhalte hein,
sabse door door rahen,lekin gam ka itr pehante hein.

kiska gam chota,kiska bada,bas apna hee Sabse bhari,
chote ka gam chota?ya garib ka gam halka?
gam toh sabka ek samaan,poora kala,apne hee jitna bhari,
utna lamba jitna kad,utna kheench raha jitne jiskee had.

bahut chalak yeh gam,saare raste maloom isse,
kabhee khatkhatakar aaye dil mein bahar se,
aur kabhee apnee hee factory mein manufacture ho kar ghar banaye.
sabka sathee hai par,chahe nange paon sadak pe,ya us chamchamati gadi mein.

bekhauf hai yeh,jab hamare dimag mein rehta hai,jaden mazboot,andar tak failee huee,

bas ek cheez se darta hai,sirf ek choti see cheez
koi aur agar doosre ka gam samajh le,
bahut chota ho jata hai yeh,aur kone talash karta hai,
koi agar muskura ke,dil se kisi se pooch le,"dost,baat karen?"
yeh bekhauf andhera,isse ujale se toh darta hai.

chalo thoda sa pooche,hath pakden,shayad thoda saath ro le,muskura lein
shayad dono ka bharipan thoda halka ho jaye,
lagne lage kee sab isse naav mein,gam,dukh,dard ko saath liye chal rahen hein,
utne hee bhari,utne hee dard bhare,par agar socho toh,utne hee shayad halke.

ek baar kisi aur ka basta kholte hein,
unkee bhari kitabe,copyion ko padte hein,
shaayad kuch aur ho na ho,par itna hoga,
sabka school ek hai,jahan yeh gam likha gaya hoga.

Unrooted

Unrooted.

It was time.
The time for them to take a decision that no one ever is ready for.

Time to slice off the roots and take the almost dead life as fast as you can from today to tomorrow clinging to a hope that that you would be able to revive it again.

Desperately searching for another place, the soil that would be welcoming to the small piece of dying plant that is their life.

Millions of them take that decision every minute and move to the frightening monster that we call cities.

Imagine living in a city with all the needs and wants taken care of.Things happen when you want them to happen, you get pissed at the uber driver who was a minute late, the coffee place which you swear is something that you cannot live without and the shopping carts at the spanking malls that are full upto brim. You look up to the skyscraper and navigate through it like a child's play.

And then I see those who come to this city and the city monster scares and scars the life out of them. Nudged in corners where we wouldn't be able to breathe, constraints which put on us today would nearly kill us ( having to go to work 365 days a year and doing whatever work comes across comes to mind ) , being forced to kill the desires that come from looking at those spic and spank cars moving around at the very high end to the ice cream cone that they see in someone's hand on a hot,sweltering punishing summer.

Not sure what killing off desires do to you on a sustained basis. If desires are rearing their ugly heads out of us on a daily basis, what happens if you turn them inwards everyday?
How much damage can those tentacles do specially when they have no release?

Next time you see someone "unrooted", help make the soil around this concrete ground a little softer for them, just try.

Is shahar kee lambee meenaron se daar lagta hai,
Jab upar se ghoortee hein, dekhtee hein,
Sadak bhee sawal kartee hein, kee jana kahan hein tumhe,
Badhawas se bade log dekh kar undekha kar rahe hein

Kyon aaya mein is sard duniya mein, jahan bulb tubelight hai par ujala nahin,
Jahan aankhen badee badee hein, par dikhane walee nahin, Nazar rakhne walee
Behosh hona aasaan hai yahan, hosh kee keemat auakat se bahar huee,
Par kambakth pet ko kaun samjhaye,bekhauf shahar mein nanga ghoom Raha hai,mujhe ghuma Raha hai

MJ

Remembrance

It's been exactly 10 years, Mols wrote.
September 22nd.

I had no idea, I knew but I had no idea.
Thought it was October.

It has been a memory that has definitely shaped me. Not outwardly, but for sure some way.
It probably touched all of us in ways that we can't define.

I had only some phony anger against god. I don't think "god" mattered too much by then.Or it did, I don't remember.

I remember expressing some kiddish anger against the manager who wanted to call me to work the day we came back.

No matter how old we are, one can never be deal with loss with utmost dignity, and possibly that is how we are able to cope.

Only thing years have changed is how much of my thought has gone to his parents who were probably doing the job of being parents to us more than we being the grown ups being there for them.

That is how it felt to me that time.

I still don’t remember, whose tears were wiped,

Can’t recall , whose shoulders were they either,

For I was supposed to console, swallowing that grief, bitter

I recall, their shoulders, my tears, flowing through their grief.

I remember the stoic father, silently sobbing mother,

The frantic brother , holding on to hope,

Till the time , hope was no longer breathing,

We kept pressing, hoping against hope

I don’t remember who bawled, who was quiet

How big was the pain being carried, the force it exerted?

Remembering the awkward motions, unsure, terrified

Fearing for them, if they were strong enough, while masking our fears

I don’t remember, coming back sans one,

A part of me just vanished, and it was not fair,

Something in me must have turned black,lifeless,

For the memories are etched in fire, dead charcoal, still smoldering