Reasonable Doubt? No time for that

I woke up today, looked at my alarm

Waited for it to die down

I snickered, went back to sleep

Resumed being somewhat dead

Peaceful, too

The bell rang, I refused to answer

Their patience died, I snickered

I rather sleep, than be bothered to

 get the house mopped

Isolation is gentle

Less interaction, peaceful too

I looked at my face, sitting up on the bed

Hours later when my sleep had died

I remembered me, I had food to cook

But I opted for tea and my hunger died

Minimal efforts, peaceful too

My love, or so called , called

She asked me to sweet to her and tell her nice things

I called her by someone else's name

Her love died, I didn't bother to resuscitate it

Why bother, this too will die, today if too

Cocoma

Today I passed by the same road again, I called out Cocoma gently under my breath. I am not someone who feels sadness maybe because I have outgrown feeling sad a long time ago. To be all life ends, new life brings me no difference. Yet I always call out to her everytime I pass by where I buried her. Opposite Saket, the ground is now a garden. I will visit it this weekend if I can. Somewhere beneath that surface is a pile of bones of my Cocoma and a picture of me that I left with her body like I was burying an Egyptian royal queen. She was too.  My darling princess. 

My Cocoma. 

I am sure your soul may have been born as another dog. Someone is either going to be suicidal about you or madly in love with you. There can only be two ways, you were my daughter after all.

I love you girl.

14 years, 2 months, 6 days since 11:55 AM on 18th November 2011.

Choonaa-v

Poochoon to jazbaat bataa dete hai
koi kamal koi haath bataa dete hai
Desh ka kya hi hoga... halaat bataa dete hai

mai poochun jo milaavat kar ke becha uska kya,
uska mausa vidhaayak bataa dete hai

jo poochun insaaf aur kuch bhool ki maafi na mile,
par balatkariyon ko riha kar mujhe meri aukaat bataa dete hai

mere bhai jo dhoop mein pis kar thand mein jamm kar marte hai,
unse salaam bulvaakar ye saara paisa samet lete hai

Aaj to chunaav tha, meri ungli par nishaan,
meri muskaan mera bharosa bataa dete hai

par chunaav to aaj sirf ek parivarik khel ban gaya hai,
Bant raha tha choona phir, jo ye mantri humko lagaa jaate hai

mai bhi matdaan kar aaya hoon,
thoda choona mai bhi lagvaakar aaya

Ab jab kursi waalon ki ladai hogi, tab ye yaad rakhna,
Ye gaddar mere desh ki sahensheelta ka mazaak bataa dete hai

Jab

वैतरणी तट

रुक जाना ही पड़े

आधा तो ना जायेगा पार

तू आधा ले आना जब

तू आयेगी मेरे बाद

But Poetry? Shut Up now

I may have run out of expressing 

or so my mind believes, maybe no one needs to hear it, read

But my poems were not for them to either

It was me, wishing for a storm in the calm and vice versa

A want of paradoxes, in the mundane

Life, and it has passed

Transmuted to nothingness, and nothings

Sweet neither, bitter nor

Then what should I write for

The days pass without furore 

I have rested my thoughts in the inescapable wince of living

I need not write, in musings or ponderings

This life and I fought, hard and lost

I didn't, maybe it did

But, we don't speak of it to the other

Here under the darkness of night, sleep arrives whenever 

Wake, too gets the same preferential paths

Between these, I work, play, life goes on

I do not seek to engage,

Nor, I do not wish to know why