Irrfan

We lost the finest ctor of our times today. RIP Irrfan. 

Ammi ka zarur dulhara raha hoga,

Ek jumma bhi unke bina kata nahi. 

Pata nahi kab se chain ki neend nahi soya hoga, 

Sahabzade ki zidd thi ki maa ki gaud mein sar rakh ke sounga. . 

Wo adakaari dekhne ko dil bekarar rahega. 

''Wait for me'' ka intezaar ab ta-umar rahega. 

Ek safar jo adhura sa chooth gaya hai, 

Hume shikanji ka intezaar ta umar rahega.

Wo andaaz yaad rahega,

Wo awaaz yaad rahegi, 

Screen par hone ka ehsaas yaad rahega, 

Aakhon se kiya abhinay, 

Wo muskaan, wo aasu, wo cheekh, 

Ek one liner mein itna kuch keh dene ka hunar, 

Adakaari ka har jalwa yaad rahega. 

Yuh toh maut sab khatam karr deti hai, 

Alvida na keh paane ka malaal zinda rahega. 

Kam hi hote hain aise insaan, par yakeenan, 

Humare aansuon mein hi sahi lekin, Roohdaar zinda rahega,

Irrfan zinda rahega. 

The old man with his old spectacles - NaPoWriMo Day 20

I abhorred the old man with his old spectacles. 

Who looked at the contemporary life in his old ways. 

Our views were always so different. 

'' Why could he not be modern?

Why he can't accept different gender roles, 

Why can't he be tolerant to more faiths? 

Why can't he look beyond caste and class?

Why does he has to live in a box? '' 

All our communication was done. 

I listened to his views from distance. 

I started opposing everything he said. 

Not in arguments, but in my head. 

Once by accident, we got stuck together. 

There was no option, but to talk rather

There was friction at first, 

Rejection was my default construct. 

Only when I listened to him I reflected. 

There were many things we both accepted. 

His vision was different than mine,

Because it was true to his time. 

He reflected what he was exposed to, 

His knowledge, his experience, his interpretations. 

I could call him wrong, 

He could call him wrong. 

But we both could listen, 

We both could talk. 

To reject him blindly, 

Would be bigotry. 

Now, I admire the old man, 

Abhor his old spectacles. 

Baatein - NaPoWriMo Day 19

Baatein aksar mansoobon se nahi hoti. 

Thodi alfaaz se hoti hai, thoda andaaz se hoti hai. 

Badzubanon ke sach bhi na qabil e qabool hote hain.

Narm lahje walo ke jhoot bhi sir aakhon par hote hain. 

Evolved - NaPoWriMo Day 18

...

The tides have turned, 

Another generation has come, 

With a promise of doing over, 

All the wrongs of its predecessor. 

As it turns out, 

They commit the same mistakes, 

Only the form changes,

Mock the ''man is evolved'' claim. 

Instincts - NaPoWriMo Day 17

Perhaps to live a life, you got to follow the instincts,

But to what event?

The ego of being an evolved species will be shattered,

If i give away to instincts like an animal.

The mind must wonder freely, but in stiff chains.

Instincts must not defy the purpose.

The struggle - NaPoWriMo Day 16

Dark clouds hover over my head

I'd be inhuman not to be depressed.

The curse of knowledge and empathy,

Has jeopardized my sanity. 

The battles are not merely exterior:

They follow a federal structure.

The struggle is to disseminate  what I know, 

To ears which may not be eager listebers. 

The struggle is to accept defeats, 

On numerous fronts outside my control. 

The struggle is to be persist my challenge,

In a war that overwhelmed all mortals. 

Sabzi ka majhab - NaPoWriMo Day 15

Jab padhaogey 2020 ki mahamaari ka ithihas, 

Yeh ek panna kar dega sharmsaar. 

Haan wo bhi ek waqt tha,

Jab sabzi ka bhi majhab tha.

Bhook se jab kitne log gharast thay, 

Kuch log sabzi wale naam puchne mein vyast thay. 

Kisi ke thele par bhagua jhanda  latka tha. 

Kisi ke hisse mein sahab ka fatka tha. 

Faqr se twitter par trend kar rahe thay '' aarthik bhaiskaar''

Shayad siyast ke liye zaruri tha nafrat ka ye karobaar. 

Popping bubble wrap

Here is a Haiku, a Japanese poetry form, comprising of 3 lines with syllables count as 5-7-5

...

Popping bubble wrap,

Worthless, compulsive desire, 

Humans battling stress. 

Sentiments - NaPoWriMo Day 13

Sentiments 

Intellect can take you to great heights,

Sentiments can take you further:

In all extremities, 

To the zenith of humanity, 

If there is one:

To the nadir of humanity, 

Which I am sure there is. 

It is man's sentiment that keeps the world going:

All the inventions to serve other men, 

To work hard to provide for the family, 

To perform selfless acts of charity,

To shed tears at the pain of others:

Sentiments make man a man. 

Those who have been in power, 

Have always belittled our Intellect, 

Attacked our ability to reflect. 

They have manoeuvred our minds, 

Influenced our core beliefs, 

Instigated our passion, 

For their unholy cause 

Human sentiments have been used to pit man against man, 

In acts of terror, riots, wars. holocausts. 

Our sentiments are no longer natural:

They are fabricated in political labs.

Our humanity is humbled, 

In the tremor of our war cry. 

In the world that stands on the pedestal of sentiments, 

Never let go the rein of Intellect. 

Sentiments are a brutal blind force, 

That need the aid of Intellect, 

To see manifest themselves, 

In the right direction. 

Ab bigrunga nahi - NaPoWriMo Day 12

Ab bigrunga nahi

Tumhaare taano se,

Tumhare ''haha' wale reaction se,

Tumhari uninformed opinion se,

Tumhari prejudice se,

Ab bigrunga nahi.

Ek baar samjhainga, 

Fir chup ho jaunga. 

Cynical wali sarcasm,

Ab  maarunga nahi, 

Tumhaari baaton par ab hasinga nahi, 

Ab bigrunga nahi. 

Farq rakhunga, 

Faaala rakhunga, 

Misinformation ke time par, 

Sach bolunga. 

End mein sab samjhenge, 

Bewakoofi wali hope ralhunga

Ab bigdunga nahi. 

Life is like a Ludo game-- NaPoWriMo Day 11

Life is like a Ludo game, 

Different colours, same goal, 

Those who start early may not win.

Fortune plays a part. 

You don't get what you want. 

To succeed, you need to strike out others, 

And, It's not over till it's over.

So, keep playing. 

Business of Art - NaPoWriMo Day 10

The business of art 

The reach, the likes,

The number of followers,

Whom I know,

Who knows me?

Everyone's working on making their brand 

True art?

I don't know.

Those who have reached the peak,

Will reiterate,

'' True talent always finds its way. '' 

Well, they can say. 

The real secret to success is not revealed, 

Perhaps not known. 

Art isn't for those, 

Who expect to be rewarded, 

It's for those who want to be enriched. 

It's a pool of endless possibilities, 

Ever expanding like the universe.

 

Form, no matter how lucrative, 

Can't compensate for the meaning, 

Hormones can't compensate for heart. 

Packaging can't compensate for what's inside. 

To stress about such trivial matters, 

Is an invitation to misery. 

Pursue the business of art minus the profit motive. 

Wo zulfon ki ek latt - NaPoWriMo Day 9

Zulfon ki ek latt chehre par aksar jhoollti thi,

Ussey khoob aata tha apne baal baandhna, . 

Wo zulfon ki latt kuch aisi thi maano, 

Jaise chehre ki khidki par koi sundar sa pardha, 

Kisi pahad ki choti par jaise baithi barf, 

Aasmaan par chalaya indra dhanush

Saaf Paani ki jheel mein jhaag. 

Natak tha uska ungliyon se latt savaarna. 

Saajiah toh hume adaa dikhane ki thi. 

Humne muskura kar uske iss dhang ko pratsahan diya, 

Darhasal wo baghi latt usaki icchaon ka parmaan thi. 

Peaceful times - NaPoWriMo Day 8

Historians tell me, 

It's a great time to be alive

Not as many wars as in past. 

But is absence of darkness presence of light? 

Do human die only at battlefields? 

What about poverty and hunger, 

Disease and depression, 

And are we going to talk about quality of life? 

How one human treats another, 

Why wealth accumulation is so emphasised? 

Are the uncertainties of modern life any less? 

Are the dangers to planet not alarming enough? 

Where is the peace as humanity suffers, 

Only the source differs. 

Jung - NaPoWriMo Day 7

Inspired by some of the lessons earned by the Gone In th wind, written by Margaret Mitchell. War and reality of war are two very different things. 

... 

Aasaan tha dour se jung ka tabsara dena, 

Zinzor uthi ruh, jab haath mein lahu dekha. 

Cheek thi, guhaar thi, jab jung ka bigul baja. 

Sadkon par jamaat thi mano tehwar ka manch saja. 

Jawaanon ki shaan mein nagmon ka daur tha. 

Rifaaqat ke har zikr mein jurrat par jor tha. 

Shikast ka khayal bhi kafir tha, gaddar tha. 

Qaum parasti ka junoon kuch iss qadar savaar tha. 

Sarhad se jab jawanon ke sheheedi ki khabar mili

Aakhein kuch namm hui, deepakon mein lauh jali. 

Jung ka bukhaar ab bhi barkaraar tha. 

Bud kirdaaron ka tezi se chal raha karobaar tha. 

Shaheedon ka aakda ab roj dar roj badhne laga. 

Akhbaar ke aakhri panne par jung par sawaal utha. 

Muflisi aur bhookmari se avaam ab ghamgheen thi. 

Sarhad par lagi jung ab sheher ke beechobeech thi. 

Jung par fateh kar avaam ab mayoos thi. 

Choti si zameen ki keemat kya adaa ki. 

.  

This is a link of my recitation on Facebook

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=3154424797913437&id=100000378443119

The Foolish King - NaPoWriMo Day 6

Writing a limerick again. It is self exploratory. 

... 

The foolish king enjoyed absolute sovereignty, 

He ruled over his foolish subjects by decree. 

When there was a famine. 

He built a shrine to please the divine. 

No one survived to obey the decree. 

The Meme Girl - NaPoWriMo Day 5

Here is a Limerick. It's a five line humorous poem following the rhyme scheme aabba. My limerick is a comment on the young generation getting their news through memes. 

.. 

The Meme girl

The Meme girl was a millennial  who shared memes on everything, everyday. 

Once she was very quiet, very out of her way. 

I asked her views,. 

On the recent news. 

'' Sorry, '' she said, '' I didn't check memes today. '' 

Aiyanna (Mirror) - NaPoWriMo Day 4

Aaj hindi mein likhe hain. Prompt tha Aiyanna.

... 

Aiyanna

Wo aiyanne ke aagey aksar, 

Din ko raat karti mai. 

Mai puchta jo wjah, 

Mujh par hi bigadti thi. 

''Aiyanna na ho gaya, 

Saut ho gaya mera. 

Mujhse zyada nihaarta hai

Chehra tera. '' 

'' Ab kya karu,'' 

 Wo bigde swar mein boli. 

''Sach bolta hai ye, 

Nahi khelta aakh micholi. 

Na zulfon ki safedi chipata hai, 

Na chehre ke daag chipata hai. 

Umr ka sahi hisaab rakhta hai, . 

Jo dekhta hai wahi bakta hai. 

Tumhari tarah nahi karta yeh

jhoot ki taskari

Nahi samajta mujhe koi hoor pari.''

Maine fataak se khol di

Aiyanne ki sacchayi, 

''Kitni bhi sateek ho, 

Dikhata hai ye mehaz parchayi. 

Parchaayi vastavik hai, 

Vastav hai meri nazar. 

Bhooj jaogi apne roop ka sach, 

Kuch lamhe in mein jhalak lo agar.''

Fake News, NaPoWriMo, Day 1

30 days. 30 poems is the target. This poem is inspired by the lowering standard of media and Donald Trump. :D

... 

Fake news 

What a welcome change,

This information age 

Ignorance will vaporize 

Awareness will rise. 

Guess what? 

Fake news. 

Those who hold the pen, 

Won't set narrative as back then.

Truth will be one and nude, 

No voices will be subdued. 

Guess what? 

Fake news. 

With advanced satellite, 

Everything will be reported live. 

No information will be concealed, 

All conspiracies will be revealed. 

Guess what? 

Fake news. 

In reality, we are less informed than before, 

Troubled sea is portrayed as a calm shore. 

Money controls everything, 

Ethics worth a shilling.

All the promises of free and fair information, 

Fake news. 

A wannabe singer - poetry

My theme was:  A woman who wants to be a singer but precisely has zero talent
...

There lived a girl in a small Indian town,
At every social gathering, she wore a long gown,
She smiled at everyone whom she met ,
For this reason, she was older folks' pet.
How nice and lovable, cultured and sweet.
Were the remarks embedded at her feet.
There was though something else she'd do,
Thought of herself a Cuckoo and go ku-oh-ku-oh,
Those who were not deaf could figure it out,
The identity crisis that had sprout,
Like everything on your shirt collar is not a bow,
Her voice resembled not a cuckoo but a crow.
A mute shrug and a loud sneer,
People tried everything to make it clear.
The girl still wanted to become a rockstar,
But her music made everybody go away far.
In search of an audiance, she walked out of the town
Her singing made even the blossoms frown.
Dejected but not disheartened, she kept moving on,
And so went her singing, awn and awn and awn.
Eventually she landed near a small house
Where lived a lonely old man without a spouse.
He gave her some cookies, milk and toast,
But there was something else that she liked the most.
He enjoyed what the world considered as noise;
He let her sing at the top of her voice,
As the man danced off beat to her off tune songs,
Something right was made out of two wrongs.