दूरी

पिया, मजबुरी है, तेरे साथ आज न मैं आ पाती,
तुम बगिया की हवाओं में ही मेरा साथ समझना ।

पिया, सोती नहीं मैं रातों में और रो भी न पाती,
कहीं आज, अपने पलकों में मुझे  तुम सुलाना ।

पिया, कोने में रखी वीणा तो मैं आज बजा न पाती,
जब याद आए,मेरी मन की तारों को मीत समझना ।

पिया, कासे कहूँ, मैं तो तुम्हारी तरह रुठ भी न पाती ,
पर वहाँ पगली के सिसकियों को तुम भुल न जाना ।

जब से दुर हो – मेरी बाहें यूँ अकेली आज रह न पाती,
मेरे पिया, उनकी बंधन के यादों में तुम प्रीत जगाना ।

पिया, पता नहीं क्यों, आज विरह गीत भी मैं न गा पाती,
अगर हो सके तो, आज मेरी मौन को ही गीत समझना ।

Posted on by prempiyush.

The beginning song

Give me all the blessings,
And curses too, if you have.
Whatever I am worth for.
I failed to stay along you.
Please let me walk alone.
Its a painful moment now.

Again like always before,
I want to walk alone –
Without promises,
Without despairs.

Songs still are there,
Stories I kept in my heart,
Since the ages,
Never did you ever asked.
As I will be walking alone,
Marks will be on the sand of time.
The winds of time, I will flow,
On the path, smooth
And with stones sharp.
But I have to walk.
They are calling me –
At the distant horizon.

Poetry and Prose are true –
Than me – or may be you.
And I will be there,
For them ever
They need me –
And still this moment too.

Otherwise – here I live a life,
That is just a fair exchange.
And I am not a barter.

Please don’t forget me,
When someday I meet you-
Somehow somewhere.

Before I leave – I will say –
The pains and songs –
Nothing is by accident.
“HIS delicate weaving – can you see?”
But for the better humanity.
Lets understand that.

Please don’t hear me –
If it pains you.
But,
Please let me sing,
Dance and cry aloud,
As, none of you can walk along me.
And I can’t make false promise –
To stay with till the last moments –
Of final departure.

Its time to bid adieu,
Please don’t say bye –
May there is a place,
Very beautiful –
And we will say – Just Hi.

Posted on by prempiyush.

मीनू

दीपा की शादी में मुहल्ले के सारे लोग जमा थे उस दिन सब खुशियाँ मना रहे थे । जैसा मामाजी ने बता रखा था – सोना उस रात बारातियों के लिए सारी व्यवस्था कर रहा था ।

सोना ने उस रात खाना भी नहीं खाया, उसकी प्यारी ममेरी बहन की शादी में उसे भुख भी नहीं लग रही थी । वैसे भी उसके यहाँ बहनों की शादी के दिन भाईयों को खाना नसीब नहीं होता है – जब तक सही सलामत विदाई न हो जाए ।

रात के ग्यारह बज चुके थे । पर जेनरेटरों की आवाज और दौड़ते – भागते और ठंड में भी आईसक्रीम माँगते बच्चे, और शहनाई की धुन में लगता था अभी भी शाम ही है । बंगाली बाराती के लड़के- लड़कियाँ और सजेधजे घरवाले । एक रात का नाच – गाना और झुठे – सच्चे वादे, छोटे मोटे तानाकशी और प्यार भरी शरारतें ।

शादी शुरू हो चुकी थी । पंडितजी नव-दंपती को अपनी नहीं समझ में आनेवाली मंत्र सुना रहे थे । सोना की माँ, मीनू सबके साथ मंडप के पास कुर्सी पर बैठी हूई थी । वैसे बेटियों की पसंद की हूई, क्रीम सिल्क की हल्की जड़ीदार साड़ी में आज वह खिल रही थी पर अब उसके चेहरे पर झुर्रियाँ साफ दिखती थी ।

अभी सोना बारातियों को जनवासा में रखकर मंडप के पास पहूँचा ही था कि मीनू उसे बुलाकर कह दी – अगर समय मिले तो हम सबके लिए काफी बनाकर ले आओ । पता चला कि भाड़े का काफी वाला जा चुका था और सभी को काफी पीने का मन हो रहा था ।

वैसे माँ की बात काटना उसके बस की बात नहीं । पर बगल में बैठी हूई थी सोना की मौसेरी और उसकी अपनी बहन भी – जो यह सोचकर मुस्कुरा रही थी – कि चलो सोना भैया हैं – अब काफी मिलेगा । कम से कम पचीस कप काफी बनाने में सहायता के लिए फैशन स्टुडियो की कोई मा़डल बहन आगे नहीं आयी – अगर साथ आयी तो फिर वही – छुटकी साँवली पियाली – सीधी साधी ।

मीनू अब भी देख रही थी – शादी की रस्में । बीच-बीच में कुछ मजाक भी कर लेती थी आस-पास की मेहमानों से । अचानक पीछे से आ खड़ी हूई – मधुजा की माँ – विद्या । और पता नहीं क्या सोचकर रख डाली अपने दोनों हाथ मीनू के कंधे पर । विद्या और मीनू में गहरी जानपहचान थी । वैसे विद्या थोड़ी अभिमानी भी थी – उसका एक कारण यह भी था – गोरी तीखे नयन नख्शों वाली उसकी बेटी मधुजा । मधुजा दीपा की सहेली भी थी पर उन दिनों एम एस सी की परीक्षा के कारण शादी में नहीं आ सकी ।

मीनू को विद्या को वैसा करना थोड़ा अजीब सा लगा ।

“क्या हो रहा है ।” – मुस्कुरा कर मीनू सिर उठाकर देखने लगी ।

विद्या ने फिर हँसकर थोड़ा वजन और बढ़ा दिया ।

“अब इस उम्र में इतना वजन कहाँ सह पाती हूँ ।” – मीनू दोनों हाथों को उलटकर उसके हाथों को प्यार से पकड़कर कहने लगी ।

अब थोड़ा बजन और बढाते हूए सिर झुकाकर धीरे से कहने लगी – ” मैं तो आपका वजन हल्का कर दूँगी – आप भी, अगर हो सके, तो मेरा वजन हल्का कर दो ना ! “

विद्या अब हँसकर भार हल्का कर दी । मीनू को सारी बातें समझते देर न लगी । बाकी कोई न समझ पाया कि क्या हो रहा है ।

मीनू के सपने वह खुद ही जानती थी । चाहती तो वह भी की सोना की जल्दी अंगुठी बन जाए । पर वही जानती थी कि सोना के लिए उसे क्या चाहिए – बस एक बिलकुल साधारण पत्थर खोजती थी – बाकी पारस पत्थर की कला उसे जो आती थी ।

मीनू कभी मधुजा की धुँधली छवि याद करती, तो कभी बारातियों और मेहमानों पर आँखें दौड़ाती पर उसका सिर अभी भी भारी सा लग रहा था ।

वह इंतजार कर ही रही थी – कि ट्रे में कप सजाए “साईड प्लीज – गरम काफी” ट्रेन भेंडर वाली स्टाईल में बोलता हूआ सोना आ गया था । मीनू कप उठाकर कहने लगी – “सोना, पहले आँटी लोगों को दो ।”

पियाली दुसरी छोटी ट्रे लेकर लड़कियों की तरफ चली गयी ।

Posted on by prempiyush.

एक रिश्ता

कितना प्यारा है यह रिश्ता,
जहाँ बस प्यार ही बसता,
कभी हँसता फिर कभी रोता,
सबकी अँगुली थामे चलता ।

कोई कुछ नहीं यहाँ माँगता,
दुसरों की जरुरत समझता,
किसी के माँगने से पहले देता,
नहीं रहने पर, बस ना कहता ।

जहाँ आशाएँ कोई नहीं करता,
निराशा से भी भला क्यों डरता,
डोर अनायास सा बुनता जाता,
प्रेम के गीत जब मन है गाता ।

जैसे दिन और सूरज का रिश्ता ।
जैसे चाँद और रात का रिश्ता ।
फिर उनमें सुबह-शाम का रिश्ता ।
फिर उनमें क्षितिज का रिश्ता ।

क्या मानव का भी हो सकता,
इनकी तरह का एक रिश्ता ।
जीवन गति का सतत् रिश्ता ।
मानव मुल्यों का एक रिश्ता ।

तन्हा दिल को है आज पता,
नातों से परे है एक रिश्ता,
पर क्यों मन यहाँ भरमाता,
समय के साथ सदा जो बहता ।

बस गीतों में ही मैं कहता ।
हाथ उठा, रब से माँगता,
दे सबको, फिर ऐसा ही रिश्ता ।
अगर नातों से परे  है – एक रिश्ता !

Posted on by prempiyush.

Embracing Pains

Pains are transition.
From one to other,
The stages of life.

Pains are precious.
When tears are paid,
As heavy price.

Pains are marvelous.
When one can see in them-
Colors embedded.

Pains are true friend.
When everyone leaves,
They remains.

Pains are soothing.
When one embraces them,
At times knowingly.

Pains are rewarding.
When one sees them,
Beyond appearance.

Posted on by prempiyush.

The Moon

When sun sets down,
My energy is gone.
When the darkness surrounds,
In the mid night –
And I am alone.

Everyone is slept- none awake.
I do search for some light,
Of love or at least hope.
Someone who can hear –
All my pains and dreams,
And I need a company.

I sit alone on the roof,
And watch the countless stars,
The stars of luck –
The twinkling stars,
But they are still far.

In the cool breeze,
I find only you,
The dearest – my nearest,
Glowing with all might,
O’ dear – my moon.

All your soothing light,
When touches my soul,
Me, so delicate – feel so cool.
I am wet in your moonlight.

Its a bliss my dear,
When in the clear night –
Just we sit together-
Feeling nearness,
None – but I and You,
Silent – talking nothing.

And the next morning –
The world is around,
And you are hidden.
In morning garden -I walk alone.
And I see the drops –
Of pearls,
On the rose buds,
Dew drops – the world says.
Dear may I ask you,
Today – just one thing ?
Do you too cry – my moon.
On those lonely nights ?

I can see my dear,
You too have a scar,
In your heart,
May be – Just like mine.
So your company,
Is always soothing –
And it knows – the pains.

O’ moon, in all nights,
As I have seen you,
Crescent and full moon,
Of growing big night by night.
Limiting again same way.
Playing hide and seek,
Just for while,
I have learnt from you,
Life is a full circle.
O’ my dear moon.

Waiting for you,
Since ages of loneliness.
I do wish, one night –
when I am there,
Come down moon,
Silently – Just one kiss.
And my life will be complete.
I know – my moon,
You are born for millions,
Would you come ?
One night – just for me !

I guess, you may never !
And I have a song for you –
Dedicating tonight –
O’ my dear moon.

Posted on by prempiyush.

For the first time !

May be for the first time,

I do recall the first letter,
When my fingers trembled.

I do recall the first talk,
When my voice vibrated.

I do recall the first meet,
When your eyes sung songs.

I do recall the first touch,
When palms seemed tied.

I do recall the first kiss,
When your lips moistened.

I do recall the first embrace,
When we did feel complete.

I do recall the first bye,
When we were just silent.

May be for the first time.

Posted on by prempiyush.

The Bouquet

Excuse Me! – Perhaps she told for the second time. She was standing near to me.

“Is that seat no. 8 ?” – She asked politely pointing to the empty window side seat near to me. She was to be my co-traveler on seat no. 8.

I wiped my wet eyes under the specs with hanky. My lost attention from the world of feelings came back to the real practical world.

“Yeah sure!” – I tried to be normal and replied with a possible smile. I came out of my seat to give her way in. Volvo AC buses have enough
space to but the hand baggage. As I reached early, I had already put my bag and my flower bouquet there, so there was relatively less space to put her bag. While standing, she was thinking to put her bag in the luggage space.

“Let me do, I shall keep it.” – I said and took her bag from her. I guessed that my bouquet was taking more space than it needed. I took out the flower bouquet out and kept her bag there. In between the space of my bag and her, I made some space and put the bouquet. Now there was not enough space for the bouquet to lie comfortable. Now one fourth of bouquet along with Orchids were hanging out from the luggage space.

“Thank you” – She told.

“Its Okey”- I gave her way in. She went inside and sat in her window seat.

She looked fair wheatish complexion girl wearing cream colored t-shirt and denim jeans. Though her “excuse me” ascent had pure metro touch but her waist length three pleated tied hairs suggested that her preference to Indian ness again. While keeping her bag I saw the company name “Accenture” on it. May be the company she was working for.

On my seat, I closed my eyes again.

And as started from noon, my headache was unbearable. I closed my eyes again. But since last two hours -don’t know why, the vibrations echoed again and again – the words of Riya – I heard over phone at noon just after I came out the bouquet shop. She never wanted to meet me.

But inside the bus, I wanted to keep my eyes open. The mental situation was, if I open my eyes, my first glance used to go to the big glass in front of driver’s seat – to check if Riya might have come to bus stop and searching me around.

Still 5 minutes were left there before the bus start. Though the mobile was consistently in my hand, it may be the hundredth time I checked out if there was any missed call or a SMS. Some times I felt hallucination that Riya is around here and she called me – “Aakash”.

But she did neither come nor did call me back. More I thought on the words – Riya told me – more migraine type headache was there. I wished to go out of bus for few minutes and sit in the dark corner of bus stand and cry aloud. I wanted some relaxation, even for the moment from the headache that I was suffering.

The girl near my seat took out her earphones and played some soft rock in her i-Pod, as sounds were enough clear to me too. I didn’t have mp3 players. I wished for some time, I should ask for her earphones – may some music help to stop the vibrations of those words in my ears.

Taking out my specs, with the finger tips of my both hands, I tried to massage the area above nose, after wiping my eyes. I was still uncomfortable – and the girl now marked it.

“Any problem ? ” – She asked.

“No, its okey.” – I replied.

“No I just thought you are not well.” – She assured herself and so do I. Her voice though not very soft like my sister, but had some kind of soothing effect that time. And again it was a voice of a girl – I wanted to avoid that – but could not.

The bus started – and the girl did Pranaam touching the forhead with two fingers to forehead and then to neck. Might she did it habitually as many person do while starting the journey.

I was returning back to Bangalore without meeting Riya. I was looking out from the window. The girl was sitting folding hands together. But this girl again reminded of Riya. Do Riya look like her?

The bus was passing through the well illuminated night streets of the metro town. I was consistently seeing outside the window. Might Riya lived in these some streets. But don’t know when my pupils got wet and I had to carry out my hanky again.

Inside the town, the roads had speed breakers in large numbers. At those points the bus used to get slight jerks. In one of similar spot, on the jerk of bus, some little thing from the cabin baggage and fell down on the girl’s lap. It was a purple Orchid from the bouquet. As she was picking it up, with a consequetive jerk one another Pink Orchid fall on her.

I felt bad as the way flowers were falling from above. She picked them up.

“Nice Flowers !” – she told looking at me and picked them up, she got up slightly and put them back into the bouquet.

These words were though complimentary, but was not helping my mental situation any more. Again they were enough to remind me those words of Riya – she told me afternoon. I was unable to believe why Riya told me such things. Was I worth those words? I closed my eyes – the words reverberated my ears. I took out hanky to wipe my eyes in front of a girl !

I was not interested in her words anymore. But one thing I wanted from her. Her i-pod. I knew that’s the only medicine, that may relax me. Asking from a stranger girl was a big challenge and at the time, when she is hearing. But I needed something in the ears.

I thought to keep my ego aside and wished if I can hear her i-Pod for some time, if at least she had any soft corner at her heart.

“Can you let me hear your i-pod for some time?” – I requested her after opening my eyes and moving my head towards her.

She took out her earphones. “Ohk ! you want ? ” – Her expression was affirmative but she was not ready for this request from a stranger.

“Yeah, not feeling well ! Just some music, I want to hear. ” I said her honestly. And I added -” Do you have some Ghazals ?”

“Jagjit !” – She asked.

“Do you have that?” – I was surprised, so did asked.

“Mera fav. (My favourite) “ She replied with a slight giggle and she choose out the tracks and offered me the earphones.

The i-Pod sound was really a great thing- the feeling of a live concert.

Again this was a ghazal lyrics meant something, generated a deep urge again to call Riya for one more ‘last time’. While I was searching for her name, again her words haunted me hard, overriding the ghazals. Now instead of “call” button I thought to press “switch off” button. But I did not.

I was feeling bad as I was using her i-Pod and guilty for myself, as I am using her i-pod. Even then for around 20 minutes, closing my eyes, I was listening tracks after tracks and the girl was looking out of the window. The bus moved out of the town.

At Reliance Petrol pump the bus stopped for fuel. The inside lights were switched on. I took out my earphones, wiped them and offered her back.

“Thanks a lot ! ” – I said

“Its okay” – she replied and added “If want, you can hear more.” I was feeling much obliged for the soft corner in her heart.

“Nah listened enough, I have some work.” – I replied with a smile. I took out my dairy from bag and pen from pocket to write down an impromptu poem to purge out my inner turmoil. I kept the dairy back inside the magazine holder hanging in front of my seat.

The girl continued to hear with ghazals, as sounds and tracks were enough clear to be heard to me too. Though I felt uncomfortable place to write a poem there, I had to hide from the girl what I was writing.

The bus was coming out of the petrol pump towards the highway but suddenly it took a sudden break, as some stray Animal was passing by.
With this sudden break, we seemed to bent forwards and consequently some rose petals and again a purple Orchid from the hanging bouquet fell on her neck.

Within a while the bus moved smoothly on the highway. I guessed this girl will crush me for carrying such things and keeping there.

“Nice Orchids !” was her compliment again and she put them back and adjusted back the bouquet moving inside slightly

“Some one presented?” – she asked with a smile adding to the compliment.

“No” I replied and moved my head towards the boring video. But I could not stop to add “Was to be presented.”

“Okey, you bought for someone!” and she put her earplugs again.

I did not reply.

In the bus I don’t know when a video had started. Some movie of Sunil Shetty was going on.

“I dislike this fellow (Sunil Shetty – the main character of movie) ” she told me , “What kind of boring movie they put !”

I was not much a movie buff, so I could not talk with her much about the movie, me too felt that it was boring movie and the CD being played is scratched one.

Though interesting were the formal talks, but still I was not interested in her talks much, as again she was again a stranger of journey. But all her talks were taking me to my past and the woman’s voice – the words – Riya told me over phone, when I was packing bouquet for her that noon. I was just nodding.

Taking my hanky on face I closed my eyes – as neither had I wanted to see the movie nor I wanted to talk with the girl.

At the dinner time, the bus stopped again near to a good dhaba. I wanted to have some dinner. And the girl preferred to keep sitting, as she had some snacks with her in the bus. I came down and ordered a dinner plate. Since morning I had nothing that can be as meals. While taking dinner, with the recurring thoughts, still I could not finish the half dinner plate. I paid the bill and came out of dhaba. While other passengers were having sumptuous dinner, I walked around the bus. For around 25 minutes, the bus stood there. I got into the bus when driver started the engine.

She was having some “Goodday ” biscuit. She offered me with a friendly gesture. I took half biscuit though I was still hungry – to be exact not for food, but some soothing words.

May Riya call me up.

The girl on seat no. 8, though I was avoiding her, the fact was, she was an outgoing personality, I am sure. We talked formally. She was from Pune, but born of mixed culture parents. She worked at Accenture as Database Administrator. And was inspiring for CAT 2007. She brought up the topics of monday office that both of us had to reach. Subsequently, she brought up the topic of movies and than hobbies including blogging and to my surprise poems. Her liking was Chayavadi writers of Hindi. Hariwansha Rai’s Madhushala was her favourite.

While talking about poems, I remembered and saw my diary, kept in the front magazine holder, just sometime ago, I have written down a poem. The diary seemed to be kept in different direction than I kept. For a moment, I thought this girl might had read my diary, while I was down for dinner. May be she knew that, I was writing a poem at petrol pump stoppage. But I crushed myself for bringing up such a suspicious thought on a stranger girl, who was kind enough to lend me her i-Pod to hear. Might I myself have kept diary like that, as I was not in a sound mental condition.

We talked again on some other topics, but I was less interested still than her.

After some 20 minutes, she pulled out the earphones and spread up her blanket over her. I tried to sleep watching the boring movie and tired body.

I didn’t knew that when I slept. I suddenly became conscious when around late night, I found that I had my head lying on her shoulders, unknowingly. I felt really awkward. I positioned myself and slept again – but headache was less now.

I wake up around 6:20 pm and saw the morning at Bangalore. She woke up much before me perhaps, and sitting straight as if she was ready to get down, though Bus Stand was still 10 minutes away.

My guess was correct.

“I will get down here near Flyover.” and she told came out with her bag.

She bid me bye and went near to door to get down. This professional styled “bye” I disliked most.

She got down. The waist length hair though not much thick, but reminded me something. She looked more fair than, what I saw in night. She walked away and disappeared.

I was to get down the main bus stop after 5 minutes. The bus entered the bus stop and everyone was ready to get down. Being though I was sitting on the front seats, still I didn’t felt hurry to get down. There was a deep feeling that, my journey was incomplete.

All passengers got down. An elderly person and me were taking the luggage out. I decided to leave the flower bouquet inside the bus only, pushing it more inside the luggage cabin.

On the seat no. 8, I saw more rose petals and Orchids were lying, might have fallen the overnight.

I took out the diary from the magazine space. And I saw a white paper like ticket sneaking out from my diary, that was tucked inside my diary.

It looked same just like my bus ticket only. But my ticket was kept in my purse – how it came here?

I saw the reverse side of the ticket. It was someone else’s ticket. In the reverse blank area in a curly handwriting – someone had written.

“Best of wishes for your poems – I loved them. ” – Anu83@_ _ _ _ _ .com.

“What !!” – I was dumb struck. I saw again the seat no. 8 to recall the lady and the ticket at the same time. Was this the reason that at Dhaba, the diary changed its direction? – “She wrote it, but when?”

I was not willing to carry this complimentary ticket with me. I felt as my flower bouquet though now may be one day old one, but – that needed it more than me.

I pulled out the flower bouquet from the luggage cabin and gently tucked the complimentary ticket deep inside the flower bouquet. I kissed the bouquet. I kept it inside the luggage cabin again.

I came down the bus as last passenger.

Posted on by prempiyush.

Persona Tags

So many tags I do carry myself, given by people around, time to time as per their love and hate. The exact words may range from Buddhu to Buddhiman , Pagla to Polite, Neta to Old movie character, Besharam to Brilliant , Software engineer to All rounder. I do carry all of them like stars of any defense personal to glorify myself ! On a serious note, gone are the days, when I used to care for them – the whatsoever personality is made till now, needs hardships to polish it up.

Its not exact analogy but something related to physical tag, that we do wear around necks. One day I needed to give my official tag card to one of friend, who was walking few stairs down, than I was actually present. I told him to catch that. He caught it and knowing let it fall down down in between the spirals of stairs gap. It flews down in the air to touch the ground floor. And he walked up smiling without caring for taking that up.

It was a friendly prank solely. We laughed as we 7 collegues were there. But in reality, seeing my tag falling down, because of his prank – my heart bleed. It was an unexpected prank. The acid test of mine again. Apart from friendly kicks to him, while getting down myself, I kept silent with smile. I picked that up and walked up.

I smiled despite the fact that I was really hurt.

Now only 3 hours of this incident had passed. The same guy needed to leave for outstation. He came up with his own tag – “Prem, can you keep it till… ?”

Taking his tag from his hand again with the smile, I just told – “Dear, just see, I am keeping your tag so safe in my pocket and never play such pranks.  From you, I never expected that.” – To him, even telling sorry needed courage, he felt unable to keep eye contact with me any longer and left.  (And I know the bonds got stronger.)

Wrapping the ribbon around the tag, I kept his tag safe in my pocket.

Now I don’t wonder when the tags are replaced by some other things. And by nature, history do repeats itself.

Posted on by prempiyush.

Help Needed

I want to write for newspaper columns on contemporary topics. How to approach the publishers for that? Is a course in journalism necessary (though I know,  it will be an added advantage) before I approach them?

Friends attached with publishing houses please do help me at premishere[at]gmail[dot]com.

Posted on by prempiyush.