हम खड़े थे आपके इंतज़ार में,
और आप थे जो बिन देखे
आपनी राह पर
चलते गए,
एक चिटठा आपके नाम
हम ने आप के घुसल-खाने
में भेजा,
आप उस को भी नज़र-अंदाज़ करके
चलते गए,
पर हम ने आपको पुकारा नहीं
कहते हैं, कभी राह चलते इंसान को
पीठ-पीछे बुलाया नहीं करते,
हमारी बेब्स आवाज़, हमारे ही अन्दर
घूमती रही और आप,
आप साहब,
चलते गए
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Banaras
Entwine yourself with me, for I have no words.
You speak to me of empty streets and wailing widows,
Concrete, death, pigeons and pyres.
Rising flames; the quest for the phoenix,
All we see is the grey: ash, stone, you, me.
We stand, made statues by the crowd,
lovers stilled in a frame,
And I think
of you
an artist dissolving paint in water
of children playing in the sea
silhouetted by the sun
And all of a sudden the clamour:
giggles, chatter, tears.
The sounds of being
Undone again, we are
Frozen no more.
You speak to me of empty streets and wailing widows,
Concrete, death, pigeons and pyres.
Rising flames; the quest for the phoenix,
All we see is the grey: ash, stone, you, me.
We stand, made statues by the crowd,
lovers stilled in a frame,
And I think
of you
an artist dissolving paint in water
of children playing in the sea
silhouetted by the sun
And all of a sudden the clamour:
giggles, chatter, tears.
The sounds of being
Undone again, we are
Frozen no more.
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