Skip to main content

Thu ut ke gayi ........


Waqt bada beman he, zaalim zaamane ki ye gulam he
Kaise kaate ye pal batha, tere ilawa jab har koi anjaan he,
Chumban ki wo gharmahat abhi hoton pe he,

Haathon ki wo narmi, muje bahut sathathi he,
Iss baar na jao sanam, akelapan seh na paounga me,
Akhiri baar ut ke gayi thi, aur aahat abhi bhi meri dhadkano me he..

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Abhi tu ut ke gayi he, phir bhi teri yaad satha rahi he,
Yahi paas baithi thi tu, teri mehak yun tadapaa rahi he,
Chumban ki wo gharmahat abhi hoton pe he,
Haathon ki wo narmi, muje yaad dila rahi he,
Dil ki ye pyaas ab ruh tak pahunchgayi he,
Kaise bhujao ise, ye tho muje andar se jhala rahi he.....

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Best Friend"

It was a mild evening with light breeze, the clouds were threatening a rainy night. And as usual Rakshith and Vani were seated at their favourite coffee shop, at their usual timings, having their usual cup of coffee and unwinding after a long day at work.
Neither ever found to fill up all the silence with chattering they were as comfortable with silence as with words. Sometimes they preferred silence more than words. It was jolt from a silent pondering when Rakshith's phone pinged.
He smiled apologetically while he looked at his message. As usual after checking his message he scrolled his facebook timeline and chuckled. Vani as usual knew he would do what he did and asked, "Who said what?"
He set his phone down and said, somebody has asked a question "What do you mean by "best friend"?
She smiled while sipping at her cup, both enjoying the companiable silence and the hot cuppa in hand.
As was their habit, today was her turn to pay for the coffee and his turn to…

Confessions - 10 doors

She stood watching the door he had just closed walking out. For a moment nothing worked, her brain, her body, her mind, her conscience.. even her breath had stopped. Then she took a long breath and everything started at a time. The explosions in her mind, the devastation in heart, the thundering thoughts in her brain. All she could do was stare at the closed door. 
Pain pierced through her soul like a hot knife through a wound. She struggled to breath, all she wanted to do was howl at the fate which made her stand here and feel this horrible feeling. But she couldn't produce a sound, even call his name. To call him back to her. 
She collapsed on the floor as her knees buckled. Held her midriff in a embrace so tight. The coldness of the situation was settling there and spreading everywhere. And finally a tear broke the barriers and rolled down. 
The gush of tears which flowed down her cheeks were unnoticed, as her heart cried out. The edge of the pain dulled to a throbbing ache in her…

A humble plea to bullet riders - From a drooling onlooker

Till today I haven't encountered a person who is not impressed by Bullet. The "dug dug dug" sound like beat of a thunderous drums creates an amazing illusion of an impressive rider on the amazing beast.  Before I let you on to my plea let me tell you a bit about the beast you ride with pride. Way back in 1955 The Indian Government looked for a suitable motorcycle for its police and army for patrolling the country's border. The Royal Enfield Bullet was chosen as the most suitable bike for the job. 
You are riding a bike used in many military operations and even in WW II. So please hear a plea of a humble drooling onlooker before you ride on in your pride.
Every bullet rider might not be a bike enthusiast but every biker is a bullet enthusiast. And also every onlooker who gives you a look while you drive with that patented "potato potato" sound blasting through your bike. 
By a unconscious consensus there are certain etiquette you have to follow if you are riding…