Kirdar-e-Zindagi!

Khud se pehle khidmat Kar, khudgarzi ke liye, toh saari umar baaki hai;
Mehsoos huye jazbaaton ko mehfooz rakh, nomaish ke liye, toh saari umar baaki hai;
Chalte Chala chal, muqammal hai maqsad tera, Ishtayhaari ke liye, toh saari umar baaki hai; Apne imaan pe kar aitebaar itna, ki daghabaazi ke liye toh saari umar baaki hai;
Apne aqeede se apni pehchaan banaa, mazhab bataane ke liye, toh saari umar baaki hai;
Lekin Ahmar, zindagi ka kirdar itna khoob nibha, ki taaliyon ki goonj ke liye, itni Umar hi kaafi hai!! br />

Oh, what a ride!

Scared she was, And calmness was only pretended. In the cool breeze, Her heart sank a thousand times, But only to let go of the fear. She had something to hold onto tightly, Wrap her hands around, And lean on. The smile went wider, and wider, With time and her rider. The swift turns frightened her, Only to have her hold tightened. They were alone, In this wild night. With nothing to fear about, Riding past thick forests, Into concrete jungles. Through darkness, Into shimmering light. Destination was only miles away, And the love meter, Shot sky high. The feast was at arm’s length, But, Who would want to lose that grip? AS she got down from the bike, Yes, the to be bride, As she got down from the bike, She softly uttered in his ears, Oh, what a ride!

The Brick Mansion!

What it appeared to everyone, Was just a mansion made out of bricks. Of what happened inside, Was known by none. A family held together, A family, Run by a widowed mother. Standing tall, like an impregnable wall, An armor to her children, Always ready to take the first bullet. A teacher, Without a degree, Imparting lessons on life. And her pupil, her children, Learnt to thrive. A close confidant, She promised to take 'em all, All along with her, to her grave. Along she played the role of a father, And in times of need, She held their hand, And advised them to be brave, The next time and every time. A magician, Turning every tragic moment, Into a lively juncture, She had in her, this very rare feature. Sometimes like a tailor, She stitched relationships, Closely knitting them, She made them dance to every tune. A master chef, She could hear their growling stomachs, And added a pinch of love every time, To serve it fresh. She pledged her life, To her children, And they turned her sacrifices, To a fortune. I still visit that place, My father's house, A paradise to my mother, And to what people refer to as, THE BRICK MANSION!!!

The Photographer!!

Life as I see it, Through negatives. Pictures taken, And put forth. Profession and passion, Mixed together. Life as I see it, Only through negatives. Exhuberance in me, And the places that I have been to, Filled in some more. Mountains, valleys, rivers and deserts, Creatures from the tiniest, To the most ferocious ones, Were all covered. Imagination was at helm, And the idea was to see things, Thousands of miles away, From that dark room. People were captured, And so were their moments. But my moment, It was there, My presence was like a ghost, Looking at them, At everything, From rivers to deserts, From the snowy mountains, To the forests. Love was everywhere, In the air. So it brought me here, Back to my moment, Their moment. Negatives were for the world, And memories for me. So I never took a picture, Of the best that I could see.

The White Terrain!!

The White Terrain!! Out there beneath the blue sky, I have my own paradise, Where i am the king of my land. Scorching this white terrain. So it was a dream, A seed inculcated when i was a child, By my father. These white mountains, I ruled them as i grew up, And so did a few of my fellowmen as well. I ride on my luck, Only to snowboard another day. Going past every obstacle, I have had minor cuts and bruises, But i am fine, I will gear up again, And I will ride again, I will fall from the mountains yet again, I will still be riding my luck, Only to snowboard another day, Only to sbowboard another day.

Little Drops of Joy!!

Little drops of joy, And scattered right in front. Wanting to be grabbed, Just like those little drops of water, That slide down, Leaving their traces behind, Of all that purity and ingenuity, Telling you, That you could have slaked your thirst. Shining like an emerald, A complete stand out from the rest, They could either evaporate, Or look like a mirage, Vanishing from your sight slowly, Dripping down way below your reach, Only to be picked in complete serenity, And not with a restless and a thirsty mind. Little drops of joy, A part of all our lives, Right after getting out of darkness, Splashing your face, Waking you up, Telling you that they are there, When you need them the most, Telling you, That with you, Are little drops of joy, Filled in your life, Are little drops of joy.

Getting It All Wrong!!!

Confusion, An art of the mind. Where imagination lags, Lags way behind. Where the loudest of bangs, Go unnoticed, unheard. Draws sketches in your mind, All absurd. And where spirals are winded, Deep down in the roots, where it all starts from. Gets you in trouble, Almost always, But bails you out just in time. Confusion, An art of the mind, When the wrong, Is just the opposite at times. When doing the wrong, Is just not the wrong, but to think of it as wrong, When wrong is about, to think of it as wrong, And eventually getting it all wrong. Sometimes it catches you off guard. When taking decisions, Seems a little too hard. But its good to get confused sometimes, Helps you fall in love, With the right. Rolls you out of worse, And is a learning in itself. Confusion, An art, An abstract, A dilemma, But not just a state of your mind.