daraar....

Milke na mila kuch bhi.
Milan hokar bhi na huyi.
Pehle nazariye se haan phir,
Gunj ooti shak aise,
Jiska na koi tol he ya mol,
Tukra ke bhi khushi mili hothi,
Ab tho bas faasle rahe,
Registhan ki badalte dibbe ke tarah,
Waise hai yeh wajud ki dastaan.
Akir peharedhar chahiye rehne ke liye.
Armaan tho barkarar
hai inkar karne ke liye.
Dehleez ke chaurahe par kade,
Samjauta hi behatar hai
Sitam ki tanhai sehne ke liye.
Alvida kehna hai lekin
is wafaa ka koi Matlab nahi
Jab daraar hua hai dehleez mein,
Jo woh chahe woh nahi hai yeh,
Is samjaute ko apnakar bhi badte rahe daraare,
Bas chup rehkar yeh zehan kar liya,
Yehi zindagani hai

just dust...

The existential quirkiness of life,
is hard to figure out or answer.
Yet we meander through,
Like a pebble rippling in water,
The ups and downs like a valley,
When it rains the river rushes through,
Slowly eroding the hard rocky sides.
When its dry the river thinly wavers,
Tapering through the edges with wetness.
The wetness evaporates 
But the erosion remains,
Slowly clawed after every flood.
The bleak periods in between a reprieve,
Only to hide the uncertainty that's hidden.
See-saw of this tempering river,
hard to know by some,
While other tries to get a hold of it,
to make it neutral.
The erosion so deep leaves a mark,
That no eraser can change whats left behind.
The true state of edges eroded is dependent
On the temperament of the river.
It gives you a splashy thrill but mostly
It gives a grisly fright that makes you realize,
The only thing certain is that even this valley
One day would become just dust,
By becoming one with the river 
That decides its destiny and fate.