The Star I had fallen for

Laugh , cry, sorrows all vanishes some day, what remains is memories, the moments we live.

The memories of first love, proposals, dating. Remember, when was your first date. How perfect you wanted everything to be and how crazy you were for this. Let’s see.

Good old days

They stare at my youthness

I spend the entire spring

Stockpilling the courage to tell

How badly I wanted him to be mine.

That his weird laugh doesn’t matter,

His staying with another flower

Never blow me off.


I want to tell him

It’s okay, its okay if his

Chewing gum won’t bubble up

If the noodles fell again inside his shirt


The wine stains are making house in it.

They are okay

I won’t laugh.

I just smile hard with flattened teeth.


I hate coffee and he loves it.

And, I think he likes his coffee black.

So, I won’t mind even having one or two.

And, before seeing him

At our favorite place – the bookstore.

I played this game of changing-unchanging clothes

atleast fifteen times.

And, my hairs, they should be waving.

He doesn’t like my hairs tied.

I want to tell him all at once,

I am going to tell him, today


That at our meeting.

The sky will wear it’s favorite denim.

The universe will recite Shakespearen Sonnets

Niccolo from heaven will play violin for us.

And, my metaphorical letters will be drowned in fragrance

With a thought, “He will love them”

But what if he sneezed,

I still won’t laugh.

I will just smile hard with flattened teeth.

Agha Shahid from 21st century

Remembering the renowned poet #agha #shahid.

From me, To you :

I was smiling, radiating the beautiful rainbow colors,
Until I saw another Shahid in my rear-view mirror.
He breathed in the air of Kanpur.
And resides in pages of Darkdiaries.
I saw him wearing black nehru jacket
With wide smile on snow-specky face.
While he was writing, I asked “What do his name means? ”
And he chuckled “Sun”, The Sun, which I inhaled previous night.
And the grave told me,
It means Beloved in persian, witness in Arabic.
From the pages I loved, read:
Mad Heart Be Brave.
And the Agha I know, wrote
Ice in the Paranoid heart.
From the incident, I remember.
Shahid delayed his death to teach
his little sub-continents.
And my Agha came early from father’s funeral to teach his little monuments.

At the airport,
Shahid carried his heart for the passengers,
And, my fellow Agha,
worked poetry into his answers .
At the stage of food,
The way, He whispered :
“Khaane k ky mehek h”
The engine left,
from platform, with variety :
Rogan Josh, do-nut and burgers,
And the two waiting with wide mouths opened
To fill the cave altogether.
He wished to die in palanquin of paradise.
And my Shahid, left his soul in mountains.
Both were the pericardium of this
beautiful poetry world.
The selfish cancer built a home in his head
Blurred the vision with short memory lapse. He sighs :
“This doesn’t mean I am dying. ”
And, For The whole way,
That naughty girl.
Didn’t let Shahid sleep all night.
Muttering in days and laughing bright.
She Made him giggle on tiny red eyes. .
The tiny tears danced on her cheeks
Her sudden silence made everyone freak. He chases:
” That doesn’t mean her low voice,
Vanished off in river’s noise. ”
Just like around the sun,
Divinity rolled through Ali’s age,
The time tickled and let him take ,
One beautiful poet ,
The World wished to stay.
That naughty girl,
Saw another Shahid’s brown eyes.
His divine soul and Serene smile.
She better wrote one last time.
Her Shahid’s face and vintage style.
The perfect phrase for his poetry life.
He’s part Saadat, part Sahir.

#agha #shahid #poetry #storysoul

| Bon Voyage |

Your crawling sunrise
On my wet body feels so warm.
Like every ceasing day,
It hereby passes across my home
Crossing infinity to reach me.
Only craving for you,
On every window pane.
With each setting sun,
It moans your name.
And like warriors,
My curtains wishes :
See you tomorrow ”
And those glorious shades
Bursting in sky,
Promises me :
“Don’t worry.
You will begin with a new healing
(But who wants healing, when
a beautiful love is bursting inside.)

| मैं शायरा तो नहीं |

| मैं शायरा तो नहीं |
मै शायरा तो नहीं,
पर कभी-कभी मिसरे लिख देती हूँ
कागजों के दस्तावेज में
सुनहरी बातें कह देती हूँ
जिंदगी के तमाम लोगों को
अपनी कहानी बता देती हूँ
उन बेफिक्र पलों को
मसरूफ बना देती हूँ
मै शायरा तो नहीं,
पर कभी-कभी मिसरे लिख देती हूँ
दिल गुलजार तो नहीं
पर वस्ल की याद बना देती हूँ
इन चुप लगी बातों को
आवाज बना देती हूँ
उलझी, अनजान नज़्मों का भी
तारुफ करा देती हूँ
मै शायरा तो नहीं,
पर कभी-कभी मिसरे लिख देती हूँ