Bazm-e-Khyaal

Maikhaane mein doobe sama ko dekha (I saw the place filled with intoxication) Alam girhe mein qaid bahar ka (The atmosphere of spring captured in the house) Hoon lazzat-e-jaam se nahi mehroom (Im not devoid of the taste of wine) Talabgaar hoon tere ishq ke khumaar ka (I am filled with the desire of your love's intoxication) Hoon tere daaman mein chipe kaantein ki tarah (Im like the thorn hidden in your dress) Boondon mein tere naksh ki tarah (Like your image in the drops) Kabhi uqde mein uljhe gohar ko dekh (Sometimes look at the pearl entangled in the knots) Khizaa mein chupe sawan ki tarah (Like the wind hidden in dry autumns) Shaffa nahi koi bazm-e- khayal ka (There no cure for the assembly of thoughts) Utri hai ek kiran arzoo ki (A ray of desire has descended upon me) Tamsaldaar hai tu us khuda ke noor ka (You're the relfection of the beauty of God) Farishte aur sabaa ki masoom guftagu si (Like the innocent talks of the angels and the breeze) Quatre quatre ki vadiyat se jalta yeh dil (By a desposit of every drop burns this heart) Vasl ki chah mein pighta yeh dil (In the hope of union melts this heart) Takalluf mein na dhale mere shabd toh kya (What if my words aren't decked up in grandiose) Teri ek nigah se sulaghta yeh dil (One vision of yours,ignites this heart)

Broken house

• 

Like a spider i weave
My life around the corners
Of the house
I once lived in.

Memories hidden between
The cracked walls
My fingers scrolling through
the broken photo frames..

I hide behind the fallen pieces
Of what once stood tall
And strong.
Gathering sunlight
I seek to live in the glory
Of a web
Which is my own..

I look at the mirror
and see
blots of ink
which were
never bothered
to be washed away.
I was used to it;
like the blots,
you became
my habit.
While
you weave a life
without me,
I go on
to weave
your absence
in a rhyme
which
never ends....

Morning mist
I hurry my way
through the lanes
where I
used to sit
listening to stories,
which now
accumulate
like dust
on an
empty pathway.
Old conversations
bring back
the melodies
of songs unsung;
the chatter of
the leaves
speak to me
in a tongue
which I
once understood.
I stop awhile
and
listen to the dogs
bark at the birds;
the chirping of
sparrows,
a voice
long forgotten.
I look at the sky
and suddenly
the voices 
stop calling out to me.
I step on the leaves
and run
towards
the horizon.

Rhyme

Sometimes
the dewdrop
wants 
to be killed
by the sunlight.
They call it 
sacrifice
but 
I call it 
a rhyme
weaved 
in the skies. 

I see the leaves
flutter
as my hand shivers
holding on
to the
half finished
tree
embroidered
on a towel.
You seem
to hang
on the branch
like a bat
whom everyone
including myself
want to understand.
It's a habit
or a compulsion
I don't know
but
the leaves crumble
as I fold the towel
hoping
you would fall
on my lap
or fly away.

The Key to Happiness

Six in the morning;
sunlight trying to 
pierce
through the sloth
of the mist.


I see the
unposted letters;
a spider's web
hidden
by the shadow
of a picture
on the wall.


I wonder if
your thoughts
woke me up.
The chirping birds
remind me
I never slept
in the first place. 


Sitting with the 
morning tea
I look for
the key
to happiness.