ठहराव

This blog completes another year, life takes another year, and we keep running in our quest to score some bauble or the other. This year, these past months, those who know me know that I’ve been running more than most. Thankfully, tomorrow, that project ends: and you will all see the results on one of…

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Winter in the City

Here’s something I had written earlier, forgotten about completely, and rediscovered recently. Since summer is still marauding us these days, I think publishing a poem about winter still makes sense. After all, aren’t we all in a perpetual yearning for the beautiful days of the past or the beautiful days of tomorrow? Aren’t we all…

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All Vacations Must End

At times, your words don’t come from you. They are too powerful to belong to one voice, their meaning too deep for one tale. Recently, I uttered some of this sort. They were said to someone I know in a jovial tone, without much thought gone in their formation. And yet, when I reflected on…

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कोशिश

Was pondering upon what I would want from the year 2015, and I formed my thoughts in these verses. Hope you read it, and like it!  

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दोबारा

रिश्तों की उम्र कौन माप पाया है? कुछ सदियों ज़िंदा रहते हैं, हमें शेरों-कहानियों में मिलते हैं। कुछ पूरी ज़िन्दगी अपने पैरों पर खड़े होने में लगा देते हैं, कुछ पूरी ज़िन्दगी हर दिन जीते हैं। हर एक की अपनी उम्र होती है। हाँ, कहानियां सबकी एक ही लगती है मुझे। काफ़ी रिश्तों को क़रीब…

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बातें

कल किसी से बात चल रही थी। उनकी एक बात से कुछ ख्याल आया, खूबसूरत था। उस ख्याल को उनसे बातों बातों में यूँ पिरोया। गर अच्छा लगे तो कहिएगा…

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Reading Gulzar – Musafir Hoon Yaaron

And there it is, we’re almost done with 2013! Tomorrow, we shall renew our pledges to destiny. Tomorrow we shall try to rise again, with newer hopes. Tomorrow we shall resolve anew to fight for all that we desire. Tomorrow we shall plunge again into the waters of uncertainty, and swim tirelessly toward our place…

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Ghosts

The last post might have led you to believe that I am quite bitter at the end of the year. But that’s not entirely true! The end of any particular thing makes me quite emotional and vulnerable, and Nostalgia rather frequently gathers its dark clouds and pours forth memories and miseries in a storm I…

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Her

Shakespeare once wrote a play that he couldn’t name. Ultimately, he went with ‘As You Like It’, leaving his audience to name and interpret what they saw the way the saw fit. Now, yours truly is humble enough to recognise he’s no Shakespeare, or even comes close. But he was in a quandary quite similar…

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Tonight

In returning to poems after a while, here’s a poem that I made up today while staring at this white screen. I hope you’ll like it…

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