Isolation – ain’t isolated.

I  S  O  L  A  T  I  O  N
Separated. Deserted. Alone. Single.

Not really.

But,
Connected. Included. Not one. A tribe.

Isolation ain’t isolated,
But a happy quarantine.
A cheerful me time,
On a happy selfie rhyme.

Glued to my lappy,
The worlds’ at my desk.
From SARS to CORONA’s,
All connected in my net.

Friends to my fingers,
Hellos at the wats-app.
Cutting real-time peeps.
Instagram says just be.

Claps on my creative,
Social Samosas cheer me loud.
Let’s now debate,
The Quint voices me out.

Alone; a petty status,
Tinder keeps me hooked.
Date, mate and hate,
Creates many stories.

Live is short,
Lasts for a day.
Meet me buddy,
I am today’s, ‘Its Live’.

So much to seek,
From likes to love.
Country’s world-wide,
To n fro land… on my palm.

Isolation ain’t isolated,
It’s the new me.
A diy hack,
My solo space shack.

ISOLATION
I am connected. I am included. I am the one. I am the tribe.

Talaash – A Find!

Itni dur main chala,
Dhundla ho gaya,
Apne aks ko kho diya,
Aisa main ulajhta raha.

Kho diya kuch,
Kise…
Aur kaise…
Talaash hai.
Apna koi bhool gaya.

Aasmaan ki udaan,
Taaro ki saugaat,
Timtimati roshni,
Savaari meri jeet ki.
Le gaya apno ko,
Meethe rishton ko,
Mita diye saare faaslein.
Phir bhi thodi…Talaash hai.

Kaamyabi ki takht par,
Khada main akela,
Shikhar par sabse aage,
Mere peeche duniyawale.
Taaliyon ka shor,
Khushiyon ki badhayie,
Shabaashi kandho par,
Phir bhi thodi…Talaash hai.

Seedi joh upar le jaaye,
Woh badhti chali jaaye,
Naye mukam dikhayein,
Neeche ka na koi dhaam.
Main band aankhon ka aisa abhaaga.
Itna lamba dekh na paaya.
Phir bhi thodi…Talaash hai.

Mehnat se yahan pahucha,
Kashton ko maine saha,
Tum kya jaano iss daur ko,
Har lamha maine jiya.
Yahan aana mera khwaab tha,
Ab aa toh gaya,
Phir bhi thodi…Talaash hai.

Kamyaabi kamaayi,
Daulat aur shaurat bhi,
Jeeta Jag,
Jeeta apna naam.
Phir bhi thodi…Talaash hai.

Haan…
Talaash hai…
Mujhe meri…
Koun tha pehle,
Aaj koun hoon main,
Aaine ne bhi diya dhoka,
Le gaya mujhse meri pehchaan.

Bhagta chala,
Ruke na ruka,
Manzil ka junoon savaar,
Tezi ka main hua shikaar.

Talaash hai…
Mujhe meri.
Mann ke sukoon ki.
Apno ke saath ki.
Ghar ki roti ki.
Mere humsafar ki.

Aaj awaaz do mujhe,
Kaho ab laut chalein,
Talaash hai mujhe…
Tumhari…
Aur hamari!

 

Khoj – A search!

Khoj hai mujhe…
Meri saans ki,
Band dhadkan ki,
Ruke dil ki.

Khoj hai mujhe…
Thodi tamanna ki,
Halki khwaaish ki,
Beete waqt ki.

Khoj hai mujhe…
Ek pukar ki,
Najhuk hasee ki,
Buland awaaz ki.

Khoj hai mujhe…
Udte parindon ki,
Neele aasmaan ki,
Nayi pehchaan ki.

Khoj hai mujhe…
Manzil ki,
Maksat ki,
Dilerr sahaas ki.

Khoj hai mujhe…
Apni.
Milna hai mujhe…
Khudse.
Judna hai mujhe…
Mann se.
Khoj hai mujhe…
Anant Moksh ki.

Rendezvous with Black

What happens…
When clouds of gloom engulf you.

What happens…
When you lose road to dark bushes.

What happens…
When you realize your eyes see ‘black.’

Puzzled vibes. Sorts of intrigue. Much suspense and a handful of drama.

Meet Black – The significant.
Its the ultimate vibrant hue around us. Our basic habitat in which we live most of the time. On general terms black is perceived as the opaque layer of life, which avoids contact with light. But, have you ever pondered Black itself is light?

Rare, but true.

How?
‘Blank’ can be white. But ‘Black out’ is black. The phase of black out then meets the phase of blank creating rays of unseen light to seep inside and search new paradigms.
Close your eyes. Shut your mind. Now you belong to the dark room. Allow the inner conscience to awaken and speak. Lets, first clear all stir and empty the soul. You will find the purest aura of radiant black throwing positive energy around to transcend in different plateaus. The naked black allows you to connect with your inner self and transform you to a higher level of yourself, which then seemed unknown. Black gives fresh air to outgrow from your current bubbles and breathe a different you. Its yogic in form and immerses you in immense tranquility. The mind beckons peace. Stunning thoughts once again pour fresh blood into the stream. New dimensions, untraveled paths, youthful strength and goodness of life – become the focal points. It’s healing. Well, its black.

Now, who am I?
I am mindful.
And self aware.

I am stunning.
Still elegant.

I am reviving.
And evoke style.

I wear attitude.
And look sexy.

I am distinctive.
Still sophisticated.

I am fluid.
And seamless.

I am deep.
To absorb pessimism.

I command power.
And augment celebration.

I chose ‘Black.’ 

Black opens the mind’s eye. It teaches to visualize who and where I want to be. It gives undying faith to all beliefs. It envisions the road of what I want to journey on. I didn’t lose road in woods. I discovered the road less travelled. Black – the spot, which I took to be a dark stain, actually turned out to be the tint of new hope and new beginnings.

Black is eternal.
You rise from the dust and you go back to the dust. Man is created from ashes to merge back into the same ashes. When life ends, the soul meets the eternal black. The gulf of universal cosmos absorbs and dissolves it in a wide blanket of black. Black is thus soluble. It dissolves. It floats. Still, Black stays. Once again it is re-born to the chakra of karma. Black is non-perishable.

 

Blank Canvas

In you I see,
A million stories.
Some to capture,
Some to release.

Lets release,
Dry empty eyes.
Cocooned shells.
Little nothingness.
Hollow space shacks.
Suspended opinions.
And, some aimless desires.

Together lets capture,
White spaces.
Reigning designs.
Thinking pads.
Creative kick starts.
Endless possibilities.
New opportunities.
Focused goalposts.
Black dots.
And, seamless patterns.

Blank Canvas,
I say…
Is nothing.
But a perception.
Of shallow thoughts,
And captive ideas.

Feminism

No boast to praise,
No toast to raise,
I hit a simple truth,
Feminine… I am.
Feminism is me.

The bold individualism.
The attitude in my sleeves.
The mark of silent attention.
The comfort of my jeans.
The scars on my skin.
Allow me to grow thick and thin.

Enthral bold experiences.
Skill thrilling adventures.
Sail mighty endurances.
Toughen gentle resolves.
Perceive grim battles.
Aim me to stand high and tall.

The womb of world,
Calls me names.
Ripping through shuttering eyes,
My feminism cuts barriers ahead.
For new terrains and green plains.

Feminine… I am.
Feminism is me.

Usool – The Principle!

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Na hai uski jaat.
Kaise kahe badi woh baat,
Kya tum jaano uski kitni aukaat?

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Kitne lagaye anginat rok.
Mohallon se woh aise guzre,
Apni dagar woh likhte chale.

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Bin taal ke taan chedte rahe.
Par taalim se jude bane,
Yahan, wahan suron ke saaz lagate gaye.

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Sanaton mein siskiyaan rote hue.
Toofan ka sanket dete gaye.
Jhujte rahe… par jeet ki kashti paar karte gaye.

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Mukam ki dorr kheechte hue.
Raah mein faasle badhate chale,
Manzil yunhi fateh paati rahe.

Usool bade bedhangi hai,
Unhe banaye kisne?
Mann ka sawaal bana usool,
Raaz mein jawab de gaya usool.

Oye yaaron…Thoda samjho inhe,
Usool bade bedhangi hai!

 

 

 

Destiny

Is destiny my sorrow…
Or the reason of the deathly gallows!
Could it be my rejoice…
Else, my true respite!

What is destiny?
Who maketh it?

Thou is my choice.
My armour. My shield.
I am its creator.
In me lies its destruction.
I crumble it.
I resurrect it.

A spell of dark nights,
Stands a white stallion upright.
Paving the dim twilight,
I cross the dense woods.
Reigning a ride of pride,
I mount for my destiny.

Landing on happy surfaces,
My eyes greet ‘Monsieur Monk.’
Hands out two omens,
He demands; make a choice.

Son…choose black, choose white,
Carve thou best luck,
And climb the fate ladder.

O great monk, I replied…
Black is the robe of my scar.
White is my lucky star.
While I adorn the black,
I rise in the glowing white.
I maketh my own ‘Destiny.’
Destiny ain’t a choice to life.
Destiny is my way of life.

Say a Little Prayer! A compelling read.

 

Om shanti…
Om shanti…
Om.
Chant. Recite. Scream.
Scream Loud.

Hello, anyone in there?
Can you hear me?
Its me. Hellos…

Ever wondered does God hear us? Do our prayers reach him? Since childhood our deep-rooted cultures taught us to pray. Prayers upon the first rise, prayers for the first morsel, prayers before bed. Prayers say it all.

‘Prayers’ – the tiny messengers to God.

From my kidding days to greying today, I’ve mastered my prayers thoroughly. As time grew my mental maths got much weaker but my prayers grew larger and stronger. Unshakable pillars engraved inside me, I guess.

 Truly undisputed. Aren’t they?

What is a Prayer?
It often makes me ponder. On a simplified note I’d rather say its my heartfelt convo with my 3.00 am buddy – God. Also it could be some kinda group talkathon which reels loud mantras and shlokas in bold chants. Is it a propaganda too of the societal rights and the wrongs we follow. Can prayer be ‘The spiritual habitat?’

Can a prayer compel me to look deep within and know the real me?

Prayer with Technology
Today, everything comes at our comfort lap. We need not seek hibernation in Himalayas and meditate with penance for days and months to reach out to God. Google Apps saved us. Our lives are much sorted. Technology helps us bridge the gap. Prayer is more of an User experience (UX) today. With the flexibility in its nature it offers an adaptable interface. One can program it and re-program it much to his/her suitable needs. All it takes is a simple tweet with a send button no matter where you are. The scores pomp a million views with a thousand likes on your desktop. I’m sure it has reached the palmtop of God too and now your prayer ought to be answered in a quickie.

 Are we nurturing a generation of mockery to follow the wisdom of Ai rather than the power of our own heartfelt?

I am stalking God
I follow God everywhere. Why? Because I fear. My fear is gripped tight underneath my heels and takes me places far and near. The dilemma of ‘What ifs’ is a choco-block in my head. Am I inviting some bad episode? Its like a game. One rule missed and the bad omen gets a ‘life’. The fear allows me to trade with God. Commerce is in my DNA. Bargains and exchanges become the primary oaths of my prayer.

 Am I challenging the very being of God and the immortal strength in prayers?

I am an Atheist
I don’t pray. I don’t believe in it. I don’t know its type. The non-prayer is my real type – my true religion. That’s my pattern. Prayer ain’t in captivity but in liberation. Prayer lies in a simple connect with the nature. The painter is an atheist. He hyms a prayer with his abstract. He worships the hues of his palette. His picture paints beautiful dots with God. The writer is an atheist. His pen conveys volumes of meaningful and desired conversations with God. The yogi is an atheist. His meditation is a path of zen to God. The warrior is an atheist. Courage is his release. And the strength to knock life back in its boots is his sole path to God.

To me prayer is what I send as a signal wave in nature and in return mother nature gifts it back to me. Prayer is in chaos and love, both. Its in a gentle smile, a warm hug and a cheeky peck of simple love. It’s a loud unheard voice of my inner silence. It’s the small humdrum of my soulspeak. Prayer is the faith of my will. It’s a discipline that I strictly follow obey its rules by heart. Its in the sublime power to submit to the light of my inner self and come in unison with the outer cosmos. Prayer is to heal me with my rights and wrongs of life. I call it my safety belt – my very own being.

I ring a prayer everyday. Do you?

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