It is nice, but it ain't all that very heartening you know.
I don't know if you would understand or have ever felt the same.
It is a strange feeling, something like wearing a custom made dress and spilling over
or indulging in that favourite flavour of ice cream and not connecting with the taste.
The strangeness and the sadness around it multiplies
as you know you are dealing with a favourite here.
You know you got it custom made when you felt the fabric
picked up the buttons, chose the hemline and gave "your" measurements.
It was hand made for you, for your sensibilities,
keeping just your likes and dislikes it mind.  
Then how does it not feel as right as you always imagined it to,
as it was always supposed to?
And worst of all is the question that what exactly do you feel about it all and how exactly do you deal with it.
Do you imagine that all this is just a figment of your imagination and not a real phenomenon.
Do you tell yourself that well, things, fittings, flavours and people change and you keep breathing.
Do you doubt your past sensibilities and accuse your memory of playing tricks on you.
Or do you just go ahead and get yourself a set of new favourites and well in that case what do you do when fate and life decide to enjoy a  laugh at your expense and present you with the same set of equations & questions.    

May it be a hot afternoon, hot with passion, flushed with emotions.
May we be travelling, travelling together.
On a road less taken, for a view less seen.
May the heat be difficult, may your presence be comforting.
May the sights enrich my mind, may your love enrich my soul.
May the hands be free to exclaim, may the minds be intertwined together.
May it be one hell of a journey, may life be nothing but a journey.
May we never find a destination where we cease to believe there is more to be seen and loved.
May this ever lasting journey fill our spirits with emotions that survive and pulsate even beyond the globe.      

हमने आग लगा दी है

दरख्तों को दरकिनार करके 

कतरा कतरा करके यूँ लगायी है 

की आग भी सहम जाए ऐसी गरमाई है

अब जलो तो सही की हम तमाशा देखें

किस कदर जलते हो तुम इसका नजराना देखें 

सब कुछ हार जाने की बड़ी तलब सी जगी है

पर जो हमसे और हमपे सब हार गया 

ये महफ़िल सिर्फ उसके लिए सजी है

Loving you tears me to bits, just that I can't make up my mind about what is more romantic; pining for that unrelinquished love all my life or to run in to your arms and die there forever, live there as never.......

If I could, I think, I would have chosen you.
The power to choose was with me, all along
but still I know you would never believe if I told you
that it was not me who was the one making the choices.

Many a times I feel, the choice for me was made
long long ago, even before I knew about decisions and their manifestations.
Long before I knew to think, rethink, long before I knew the power of my decisions 
over me, over you, over all of us.

In a vain, silly moment I decided without knowing that I was getting
into something I could never change, without wanting with all my heart.
Even to dare change it would alter who I was, who I am and who I will be.
The moment like one of those where passing by a field you discover the colour purple and stand transfixed.

It is my decision, but I feel no love towards it.
I don't feel enough hatred to tear away from it.
And I know my existence is stuck in a limbo.
Each breath tells me the tale of being hung forever and whispers ghastlily that its my own doing.

I listen to it and close my eyes, look upwards, look inwards and just die.

चाँद सी रोटी या रोटी सा चाँद

माँ अब मैं भी रोटियाँ बना लेती हू, कुछ टेढ़ी मेढ़ी, कुछ कच्ची पक्की
चाँद सी तवे पे अपने ही रंग रूप में जलती भुनती
कुछ गोरी गोरी निखरी सी, कुछ काली खट्टी नकचड़ी सी
गुंथे आंटे का रंग बदलता संवरता सा, कुछ सृजन का सा एहसास देता हुआ

सब अच्छा है माँ, अपनी रोटियाँ देख कर बड़ी ख़ुशी होती है
उनमें सब कुछ होता है
वो गोलाई, वो रंग, वो खुशबु
बस एक बात रह सी जाती है
माँ वो आपकी रोटी सी मुलायम कभी न बन पाती है.

I become the father, I become the child.
I run wild while I stand and smile.
Every minute it feels there is a transformation happening and every other second it speaks, almost reeks of it all being so utterly same.
Now there is a blush and suddenly the wrinkles form.
Now they are dark as the night and suddenly a hint of grey, I see moonshine.
Can't compare, can't say who is prettier, the young lass full of untouched anticipations in her eyes or the silver lady full of experiences sublime.
It is all the same. I see me. I hear me. I feel that bond.
The gurgling chuckles of the baby, the earthy laughter of the grandmother.
It feels good, it feels me, it transforms, it ignites. It is a passion, it is what keeps me calm!