Saturday, June 17, 2017

पिता

आकाश सा विस्तृत होता ,वात्सल्य पिता का ।
जीवन के संघर्षों से लड़ ,फिर मुसकाता,जीवट पिता का ।
पेड़ की छाँव  सा ,प्रेमाश्रय पिता का ।
रात को जागकर ,चादर ओढ़ाता ,अनुराग पिता का ।

सब का सहारा बन ,मुस्कुराता ,श्रम पिता का ।
धूप में रहकर ,एक ,आशियां का ख्वाब सजाता  ,प्यार पिता का ।
भूखा होकर ,एक रोटी ,भी ,आधी -आधी करता वात्सल्य पिता का ।
हर रोज़ सुबह , पीठ पर थपथपाता  ,स्नेह पिता का ।

ऊँगली पकड़ कर ,स्कूल  छोड़ आता ,जिगरा पिता का ,
फिर चुपके से देख ,आंसू छुपाता , प्यार पिता का ।
पहली साइकिल की सवारी, होती दिलेरी पिता की ।
डगमगाते ,पर गिरने न देती ,चेतना पिता की ।

कभी ठोकर खा भी जाएँ , तब , राहत सा आगोश पिता का ।
कभी पीठ ,कभी गोद ,में गुनगुनाता प्यार पिता का ।
कभी कठोर कभी नर्म ,धूप -छाँव सा प्यार पिता का ।
सौम्य  मर्म को न दिखलाए ,ऐसा अद्भुत , स्नेह  पिता का ।।




Sunday, November 13, 2016

संवाद

" तुम्हें पता है , शायद ,सब से ज़्यादा बेबस कौन होता है "

"हम्म्म
शायद कसाई के आगे खड़ा पशु !"

"शायद ,हां ,पर फिर भी ,उसे एक धूमिल आस होती हो .....
कसाई का हृदय पसीजने की आस "

"शायद नदी के बीच खड़ा वह अकेला पेड़ ,
जीवन से लड़ता ,मृत्यु को हराता  ,
पर शायद अपनी नियति जानता हो...
के एक थपेड़ा भी उसको बहा ले जाएगा ..... "

"या शायद उसी पेड़ पे बैठी एक माँ ,
जिसके बच्चों के पर न हों ......
और उनको अपने ममता के आँचल में  टूटा  धीरज बंधाती "

"शायद हाँ पर ,ममता ,कितनी भी बेबस हो हार नहीं मानती
शायद वह बारिश के मध्य ,बीच नदी में वह पेड़ बेबस हो ,
ममता का संघर्ष बेबस न होगा...

 "वह उसकी आँखों में
उसके ह्रदय तक झाँकता हुआ सा बोला "
"ह्म्म्म
फिर ? "

 "शायद तुम समझ पाओ या शायद ना भी ,
पर  मेरे हृदय में रह रह के यह भाव आ रहा है ,
की इस जर्जर काया ने तुम्हारी आत्मा ओढ़ ली हो जैसे
काया तो काया ही है......
माया है यह तो ,
पर समय से हारती इस काया ने , न जाने कब यह चादर ओढ़ ली.....
पता है पहले सोचती थी मृत्यु को लपेट लूंगी  ,
ज्यों ही थामेगी ,"

पर अब लगता है ,
एक प्रेम पाश है , मृत्यु को कह रहा है ,
रुक जाओ .....


इस घने कोहरे में  दो जिस्मों का एक अनकहा संवाद स्पंदित हो रहा है....

शायद इस घने कोहरे में  एक जर्जर काया की टूटती आस और एक टूटते  संन्यास के मध्य एक संवाद घटित होने वाला हो


पता है सबसे बेबस कौन होता है


शायद वक़्त से हारता आदमी
वक़्त से हारती आस
वक़्त से पहले टूटता अधूरा सा  संवाद   .........








अपना अपना आसमान

ज़िन्दगी में हर  किसी का अपना अपना आसमान
हर कोई अपने ज़ुनून ,की कह रहा है दास्तान ,
ज़िन्दगी की  ,तल्खियाँ ,और हर तरफ खामोशियाँ
दिल को घायल कर गयी हैं ,बढ़ गयी  बेचैनियाँ ,
ज़ख़्म ऐ दिल तो भर गए ,न  मिट सके उनके निशाँ
अपना अपना आसमान  ………………


Wednesday, February 18, 2015

साझे का रिश्ता

सुना है मैंने होते सबके आसमान अलग ,
होती ज़मीन अलग ,संसार पृथक ।


कितना अच्छा हो ,गर ,मर्म मेरा, हो जाए  तेरा,
भावनाओं  का बोध,भी  एक हो जाए ,तेरा मेरा ।

प्रेमयात्रा की हर मेरी अनुभूति का एहसास ,
केवल न रहे  मेरा ,
 दबे पाँव तेरी आहट तो पहचान ली थी  मैंने,
काश  उस कश्मकश में ,भी ,साझा होता तेरा ।

कि प्रेम की कसौटी में ,यही आखिरी कसर ,
काश ऐसा हो पाता ऐसा
ज़िन्दगी हो  मेरी ,करती तू बसर ।

प्रेम हो यूं प्रगाढ़ , की ,अंतर की दीवारें पर भी न रहे स्वयं का पहरा ,
प्रस्फुटित होती तेरे अंदर ,हर प्रेम की  कली ,से ,महके अंतर्मन मेरा ।

 मैंने सुना , होता प्रेम जब परस्पर ,तो क्यूँ न हो जाए ,
अनुभूति का  धरातल भी हो जाए ,एक,तेरा मेरा ।

ज़्यादा नहीं ,हो चाहे ,कम  ही सही ,
साझा हो पाएं ,कुछ ,हमारे संवेदना के  टुकड़े ही  सही ,
अल्प समय  के लिए ही काश हो
एक ही धरातल पर खड़े हों हम ,
नीला आकाश एक ही हो वहीं  ।

साझा करूँ  फिर  थोड़ा आसमान मेरा ,
साझा करे  ,तू ,ज़मीन तेरी।

कुछ बादल के टुकड़े मेरे आसमा के ,
प्रेम की बूँदें बरसाएं संवेदना मेरी ।

तेरी ज़मीन ,आसमां से बरसते बादल मेरे ,
यूँ आत्मसात हो भावनाएं तेरी मेरी,

मेरे आसमान में उगते सूरज की किरणों से,
सोने सी चमके ज़मीन तेरी।

थोड़े से आसमान में मेरे ,हो तारों की टिमटिम ,
अपने एक से संसार में ,रजनी बरसे रिमिझिम ,

एक थोड़े से आसमान से  सफ़ेद  सा चाँद निकले हर रात,
तेरी ज़मीन को सफेदी से ढक ,साझा रंग, रंग  जाएँ ज़ज़्बात ।

ठण्डा सा चाँद  मेरा ,ठंडी सी हो तेरी  ज़मीन  ,
सोए अपना जहां ,ओढ़ ,निंदिया की चादर हसीं ।

सुना तो मैंने है ,होते सबके संसार अलग
होते आसमान अलग ,होती ज़मीन अलग ।
प्रेम की डोर थामे ,काश,
साझा हो पाए कुछ थोड़ा सा आकाश मेरा  ,
कुछ थोड़ी  सी ज़मीन तेरी …

है जब  साझे का रिश्ता तेरा मेरा ,
 काश हो  भावनाओं का संसार ,एक, तेरे मेरा  …








Thursday, January 29, 2015

स्पर्श की भाषा




स्पर्श  की भाषा

कितनी अनमोल है न, यह स्पर्श  की  भाषा ,
लोरियों, थपकियों से गुंजित ममता की भाषा ।

माँ के स्नेह भरी गोद में ,
देखो , एक नन्ही सी जान ,

 यूँ तो ,धरती पर  है वह नया ही  मेहमान
मोह क्या ,अभिमान क्या ,राग क्या द्वेष  क्या ,
निर्लिप्त वह ,दुनियादारी व  रिश्तों से अनजान ,
हर बंधन से परे ,ममत्व के  घेरे  में सहज शिशु ,
उसके आँचल  ,को  ही समझे ,सारा जहान ।

उसके हाथ को ,अपने ,नन्हे हाथ से ,छू,
लगे उसे जैसे प्रसरित होता जीवन का  विहान ।
कोमल सा है यह अबोध ,न है उसे अभी चाहे कोई ज्ञान,
पर  माँ के ह्रदय के स्पंदन से नहीं है अनजान,

सांसारिकता से अनभिज्ञ पर
अचरच  नहीं  कि ,माँ को पहचाने ,
इस काया ने सींचा खून से नौ मास ,
हर सांस ,को आधा बाँट फूंका ,
मास के लोथड़े में प्राण ।
नौ मास ,ओढ़ी ,माँ की हर आशा निराशा

माँ के हर दर्द का ,हर ख़ुशी का साझा वह।
लोरियाँ में हो सकता ,है ,कुछ शब्दों  का आभास नया ,
पर नहीं है यह ,आवाज़ नई ,न ही है राग नया ।

अपनी जननी के  हर स्पर्श ,
कुछ हाथों का ,
छाती से चिपकाए ,
कुछ गले का ,
कुछ कपोल का स्पर्श ,
प्रेम से चूमते ,
उन नाज़ुक होठों का स्पर्श ,
है नया यह सब कुछ ,
पर हो रही है नयी पहचान,
खुद को समेटे गोद में होता
शिशु को  सुरक्षा का भान ।

जो ज्ञानी न समझा पाए ,
जो निर्लिप्त -निर्मोही न समझा पाएं ,
माँ से  सहज ही सीख लिया ,
 ऐसे  निःस्वार्थ प्रेम का ज्ञान ।


निंदिया की ओढ़ चदरिया ,सुंदर सपनों में खोता
सिमट माँ ,की गोद में ,हर क्षण ,अपनत्व के बीज बोता ।

कितनी अनमोल है न यह ,स्पर्श की भाषा ,
माँ की हर सांस,उसके ,हर रोम रोम की भाषा ,
स्पृहय थपकी और अस्पृहय स्पंदन की भाषा ,
 लोरियों के गुनगुनाहट की मीठी सी भाषा ।





Saturday, January 24, 2015

Words

Words ...


Do you know my words used to dance unconstrained on the stage of paper ,and that they emerged out  even from  the crevices of the walls that confined my  silence stricken heart .Those walls are still there,those crevices have even not been filled  with the dust of time .They still exist but  the words are not there .Those crevices are waiting for the flurry of words to make their way through ,struggle ,with the constraints .

May be it were you ,and ,your soft  voice ,that made me ,filled with ,words ..

May be the hope of seeing you and meeting you one day ,made me write,

The picture that I had in my mind of two of us holding hands in hands and jaunting to place where the fine line between the right and the wrong gets dissolved ,where the judgement,the assertions ,the inquisitions,the acquisitions are not there ,where the callousness associated with ambition,and the incessant run of achieving ,competing and putting our own people behind and the thoughts of quest to win are non existent ..May   be that picture was what transformed into different words and expanding their span into essays

Perhaps ,the fear of losing you ,and that ,heart broken feel ,and the hidden tears made way in the form of words..

Perhaps the queer imagination of mine on  how would you react to see how quaintly I  painted you in with the stringent use of words ,stringent enough to not compromise with the purity of love,to not compromise with dignity while describing your beauty , I feel ,those made me write with a subtle flow like a cool but soothing breeze of the spring.

May be it was your smile ,that me ,burst in into ,the bewildered search for the similes and in that search I found my words wrestling each other for the getting their space into the essays  .I feel ,my words ,found their,life there .

May be the way you invaded my heart, bit by bit, with silent steps,treading  softly,through a cushiony path of love that you made inside of me ,each day ,gave birth to words and they have flown onto paper, every single moment of thought of yours .

May be those sleepless nights set ablaze with the fire of yearning to meet you, to see you and to confess you my love straight from my eyes ,gazing into your soul ,made me ,overflow with words..

Now that you no longer talk and that there is an unusual lull that has occupied two of us, I feel,my words have gone to sleep.They haven't slept yet ,they are pandiculating  somewhere ..And trying to rejuvenate .A fresh talk may bring a new life to them ,they are ,half waked ,rubbing their eyes,only a false imitation of annoyance and may be a small faking shout of yours,will make them awake ..

Let me tell you ,
Words are my life .They make my world where I live ,where you live  ,where there are faint hopes of  meeting you reside ,where there is a small hut of ours in a lush green valley surrounded by big hearted mountains .

The flowery language that I use in my essays is your beauty in my eyes.That hut where you and I dwell ,I  construct that daily with precise engineering skills of my words,putting ,every brick of similes ,analogies and metaphors with thorough caution, cementing with beautiful string of words ,building it with precision keeping a check on the words that may appear loose ,locating the instances of personification in every  single possibility lurking   ,and even a single flaw if I locate,I demolish the whole construct.
Such are you and such is a compelling association of  yours with my words.

And each day I keep reminding my words that be ready for that faint hope ,be desirous of the days to come,be jubilant enough to ooze out to paint you each day with light strokes of my imagination .They are like a brush to a painter ,like a chisel and hammer to a sculptor ,they are like a life saving drug to a dying patient ,they are the like a musical instrument to a musician and they are what I live for.

These words are wandering these days in the dreariness of time being spent without you...they are getting lost in the deserts of non recognition.They need your pat ,they need your pampering ,they need acclamation, they need your smile  which used to be there when you read them , they need the same expression you used to give on reading them and feeling a proximity to every sentences like it has been you ,who has been written down with the ink of pen .

They are living a life of solitude ,they need your silky soft hands to run over them.
Let them  feel good about themselves  and blossom like buds blossom into a lovely rose .They are living still and nostalgia inducts in them a trace of life but not for long ,they need you 

My life is incomplete without you and my words have become orphans in your absence....

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

A few Scraps .....

    A few Scraps .....        

"Sometimes its not about the story,it is about the characters ,through whom you are saying your own life ,through whom you are singing your own song.."

                                                                   1
                                                   How will he write ?
I
ntervening thorough telephonic conversation ,in a soft voice with a caution following an abrupt pause, girl said once :" Why don't you write a story on us ? "
She is apt at doing all these things ,on phone,she would talk and abruptly spark out  an inquisition and this pours in him beautiful sensations .He used to wait for those husky interventions and as soon she made one ,he used to get elated thoroughly.And the joy like festivities filled his mind and body.
Buy that day he could not reply but smiled .
The girl also didn't pursue ,maybe,she knew the reason behind the silence 
.Love is a special feeling .It enables the person to read between the lines ,know the reasons behind the unreasoned smiles ,know the truth that has been brimming out to flow from years but still somehow constrained ,like the water of a river reserves its potential in the dam .Love opens you up,eases you even to share the darkest corners of your heart ,it bandages all those wounds that had been bleeding for years .
The boy ,while retiring back ,on his bed ,took the pen in his hand contemplating on his beautiful association with her of three years and thought to write something down but couldn't figure out what to write .For years he has accumulated a lot of emotions .He has cared for these emotions and nurtured them like a mother nurtures and feeds her baby but today he has been thinking hard but can not write .There are so many things he can write .He scribbles something down and cuts it ; jots a few lines ,again fails to write in tandem like he usually writes.
And in his mind , appeared a landscape, a green meadow, where she was there and he said to her "Dear ,I am living a story .How will I write ? Can a life be written ? "...
This thought sent in him a shiver throughout. 
Yes........
Will he able to transmute an image (whatever he has seen in her photographs) into beautiful string of words .Will he be able to flung open the windows of his heart and flood all his feelings as pure as gold into words scribbled on paper made of lifeless pulp .Will that lifeless paper be able to embrace the words of life .Will the ink of a pen be able to flow down on paper like she flows in his blood into veins .Will he be able to tell that one who is no one to the world in regard to him, has been all along with him like wind .
 Will he able to write that why his heart felt like a dew on the rose.Has anybody asked drop of dew ,how beautiful does she feel in the company of a petal of rose. Because of the rose ,she has got a new meaning to her existence ,subtle,but still astonishing .Her talks, her photographs, he has, are like dew drops on his existence .His existence has become all the more beautiful since he has started loving her . Because of her unknown presence these days,he breathes a different air ,embraces the rain drops like never before ,he lives his life jubilantly and his sky has become all the more scintillating with the stars resembling a twinkling hope (a hope that he will meet her someday) .Will he be able to transform all his happiness ,a happiness unknown to the world and a happiness whose reasons are so subtle that he can't define . Will he able to write down the search of his eyes ,whenever he moves out on the roads 

.Will he able to transcript the "I love you " she said to him on one night with a hitched throat but  with mysteriously soft voice .Will he be able to write that knack of hers to stop for moment ,then,with hitched throat keeping herself breathless instigating a pause and then talk in one go ? Will he be able to write about that summer night when he woke up with an unusual restlessness and from balcony saw up in the sky ,there were stars all around ,and how lonely that he felt that night . 

Will he able to transcript that shivering he felt on a winter night on a lonely road and that how desperately did he want her alongside to accompany him on a stroll on that night . Will he able to put down in words loneliness that bites him and her thoughts fill this vacancy sometimes and at fewer times this vacancy hurts all the more ... ..and midst all such thoughts one more night he slept with her thoughts along and closer he felt her that night .......
                                                                             
                                                                           2
                                                       Arrival In His Dreams 

Arrest in her memories ,he slept every other night.His every breath hasn't been the same .Since he has felt the seeds of love growing into a plant ,the day he has felt it blossom in him,his breath has always been in a turmoil on every thought of her. Every night her smiling face on his phone flashed and in him ,with that flash , each night new ecstasy paved way .Everyone has his own world ,in his world these days ,is an unusual commotion. There is a roar like ,the river,which explodes out from glaciers into gorge. Love is an expression of revolt ,a rebellion within yourself .An identity which you have figured out all these years ,starts fragmenting for a beautiful intrusion which encompass the four walls of persevered identity and then gets inter mingled so much that you dont know what part if your and what part is hers .Love sets itself that day when the distinctions get diluted and the day when the ever damping distinction of 'you' and 'me' eventually fades. And 'you" and 'me' becomes one .In that oneness is the love, even if its transient,fall for that transience.
And the boy ,sleep with that ,transient feel ,he cuddles ,that every night.
And like an infant smiles in his dream,his existence gets inundated with sweetest emotions ,there is a joy which he cant express.
There was a question that was stuck like a kite gets stuck in sometimes the thorny bushes .He wanted to calm that inquisition,every morning he wake up with questions still there .The question was when he loved her like his own existence ,why didn't she appear in her dreams and in this thought his every morning lit up and as the sun went beyond the mountains and as the stars filled up the sky ,again ,the same question hovered him . The question kept haunting him and the answers still were distant affair .
And a morning arrived with disillusioned flashes of hers ,in his early morning dream she appeared .A girl that he always thought ,in his dreams ,looked a complete woman .A yellow salvar suit ,simple and sober,and her hair in breeze playing in their own ways . Today, he found in her a complete woman , dignified and an unusual glow of purity on her face. She looked the most elegant woman he has ever seen and all of his body got filled up with sweet emotions ..like a dark room gets flooded with sunlight as the window are flung open. He could feel her today , her aroma and the sweetest smile on her face was all he could remember as he woke up ...and that feel he knows has gone deep within him ..It was as if a destitute finally found a shelter and like a river fighting its way through the terrain , losing a bit of her in tributaries ,running through urban centres ,through villages has finally found her meaning of existence by meeting the sea . He is the happiest person in the world today and he can sense her virtual presence all the time and that was the only wealth he posses since then .....

                                                                             3
                                                       I will meet you there 

I
will meet you at a place where the world with selfish intents ceases to reach out.I will meet you on that mountain peak where the mist envelopes us as the one entity ,where the calm breeze will caress your eyelashes. My soul will get elated on that day when the rays of the sun,fighting the mist and fog will kiss your eyes with unusual subtlety .I will meet you on that day ,when my lips, tongue won't move , even my eyes won't talk ,nor the facial expressions may find way to talk .I will meet on that day when my silence will talk to you and a caring loving soul will resonate along with yours ..I will meet you on the banks of a silent river which on its voyage is all eager to meet the sea and still calm . A journey leading to you has begun but I can only sense ..I am blindfolded in your love and every step of mine is a step of hope ,ecstasy and enigma.

                                                                         4
                                                   The grass and the lovers 

On the grass ,the two souls lay under a clear sky & there was silence, the stars all around ,and in the silence , there was an unusual charisma,an unusual feel and the peace they wished. The young beating hearts have found a solace in this tranquil .For years they waited for distances to merge ,the yearning was always there and today,with every breath of theirs ,this yearning ,the desperation had finally got dissolved in the air all around .The light breeze ,the the dew and the withered leaves on the grass ,and the moon and stars in the sky had witnessed love growing every second in their exhales..

                                                                    5
                                                   The best Friend 

And the boy waited for the day to descend ,and ,lay back under the covers , see on his phone his life ..and as he sees her photos he forgets all the toil he had been through,throughout the day ..and he forgets the scuffle ,the thrashings ..and she appears to him his only friend ,who has no complains ,no biases ,no prejudices but has a large heart in one part of which he resides .She is his best friend ..the one in all sorrows ,pleasure ,fun and pain ..She is the one whom he never forgets to tell anything if not in front ,then in himself ,where only he and she reside , meet and jaunt along in the lanes with unusual freedom ..

                                                                       6
                                                  Beautiful Association
  The boy and the girl far away sleep in their houses with zillions of emotions making way in them ..They are far away physically but there is a thread ,a fine one ,that has connected them to each other ..seven year's of struggle to recognize what was there ..what was true ..has finally come into shape and.. it is love ..people talk about in volumes in movies & novels ..
Which has struck their doors of heart ..and mildly they are fading in the mist of love and an usual togetherness even when they have not met ..a beautiful innocent association is building between them and growing every minute. ...This is the best moment of their lives ..this  happening to them is not less than a festival and joyous are these moments...