In the name of God

i came alive
from the burning flames
while she stood there
succumbing to the political games

they slit open her womb
and flung the foetus in the pyre
who would say they are humans?
they were beasts
in human’s attire

‘in the name of god we do this’
they killed mercilessly and said
one ghastly act provoked another
and soon the untamed fire spread

six years have passed
but those screams still haunt me
the bloodbath, the horrifying sights
flash across unexpectedly and jolt me

‘you were lucky to have escaped the genocide’,
they thank the lord and say
somebody go tell them
i was saved once
but i die every single day

'ello Mr. Moth

We exist.
Life persists.
And light travels.

The planet heaves.

Moths hang around
attracted to the light
and the life of the night.

Shaam ke parvane,
they troop in,
gather their selves, and pop out.

You can see them doing the Salsa at times.

They leave behind their visiting cards:
pairs of wings you can almost see through.

Munir Kabani

@ L 5 -13

This one comes especially for my roomies, with whom i've spent some of the best moments of my life :) makuts...we rock!!

Hariyali se dhaki un galiyon mein
Humne bhi ek jahan banaya tha

Ek chote se kamre mein
Duniya ke har sukh ko paaya tha

Yaaron ke saath bitayi thi kai shaamein
Tanhaiyon mein thandi hawaon ko apnaya tha

Bin vajah kiye the jahan jhagde
Phir gale lag, ek dusre ko manaya tha

Har baat pe hasi
Har cheez mein shararat
Har pal ek naya khwaab sajaya tha

Us kamre ki woh choti khidki se
Humein ek naya aasmaan nazar aaya tha

Shayad khud hi ko khokar
Humne wahan ek naye main ko paya tha

There she comes..

Ah, there she comes…

With a spirit that finds solace
In the chilly wind
Which cracks her skin
And reaches out to her soul

With a silence that speaks
Of the gratitude she feels
Towards the one that lit
An unflinching fire in her heart

With restless eyes
Looking for something
She had unwilling left behind
The last time

Now her eyes light up
A smile dawns on her face

She is back to the place where she belongs -

Pune

Colours of Paradise

Ochre - not yellow, not brown, something in between
Grey - just a drop of black in the white so clean

Violet - blue and green merge to create a sight so captive
But beware, for looks can be deceptive!

Green - the blue sky and yellow sun come alive
Nurturing a colour that breathes new life

Orange- the fire in yellow gets more wild
Engulfs a tinge of red and makes it mild

Pink - the softness of white gets more loveable
Embraces the feminine and makes it adorable

Blue - each hue so different, different stories it tells,
Some of a precious stone, while some of rains spells

An Unbearable Wait

dreams await
wishes call out to me
wait longer, they say
the fruit shall be sweeter

let me go, i say…
to my surprise, they let me
i move ahead, full of joy
and rush to open the door

only to find myself
in a bigger cage…

The Broken Image

In January 2004, I attented the first literary seminar of my life - the Katha Seminar. By far, it has been one of my most memorable trips to Delhi - the literary talks, the many movies at the film fest, the Delhi winters...I enjoyed every minute of it! The seminar opened a whole new world for me and I realized that there is life beyond classroom lectures. Not that I didn't know about it earlier, just that it hit me the strongest during this seminar and compelled me to take a step ahead. It was precisely at this point that I decided that I would pursue my Masters in Media Studies.

I attented several workshops at the seminar and one of it was a workshop on poetry writing conducted by George Szirtes - a renowned poet from Europe, who has also extensively worked in the field of translation (http://www.georgeszirtes.co.uk/). During the workshop he asked us to think of an object, personify it and use it as the subject of our poem. After 15 minutes I had in hand the first poem I'd ever written. This one holds a special place for me. Let's see if you can guess what is the object that is personified here :)

THE BROKEN IMAGE

But once I was
Loaded with images
like books stacked
shelf after shelf,
I could see everything-
yes, everything
But myself…

The hidden tear
The child's fear
The first grey hair
Following an unknown path
Leading nowhere

But now,
A thin line cuts deep through me
Like a once bountiful
but now dried up sea

And I can still see it all..
The hidden tear
The child's fear
Alas! I'm hacked in two
They don’t come near...