Word

Sharing some beautiful poetry put to music i heard recently. Stuck again. Enjoy

Did you mean what you said,
Did you say what you meant.
Did the words that you meant,
Were the words that you said.
What you meant was it less,
Was it true what you said.

Did the words that he said,
Flip the words that you said.
And when he change what he said,
Did that change what you meant.
And did it hurt when he heard,
By the words that you said.
- Sudhir Mishra

Lafz

​Khamoshiyaan awaaz hai, lafzon mein bas inkaar hai

Lafzon ne chuna, lafzon ne buna, jo bhi humne kaha, jo bhi humne suna

na humein ilm hai, na tumhe hai pata, jaane ho kab kahan, lafzon se khata

lafzon mein rawaan kuch kahi ansuna, lafzon mein bayaan kuch kahi ankaha

dil pe jaane kahan ghaav koi laga, lafz hi de gaye lafzon ko daga

khamoshiyaan awaaz hai, lafzon mein bas inkaar hai


Raaz hai sainkadon, lafson ke dher mein, maaene ho judaa lafzon ke pher mein

Lafz laate kabhi aise bhi mod pe, sab chale jaate hai jab humein chodke

Lafz hi lafz mein baat ban jaati hai, Lafz hi lafz mein baat tha​m​ jaati hai

Kuch bhi socha nahi lafzon mein beh gaye, kehna tha kuch humein aur kuch keh gaye

Khamoshiyaan awaaz hai, lafzon mein bas inkaar hai
- Sameer Anjaan

There...

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,

There is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase "each other"

doesn't make any sense...

-Rumi

Stream of random thought...

Tried to write something, failed, combined, came up with this. Quite disconnected... or is it? =)

Between Night and Morn

Crescent moon. 2009. charcoal and ink on paper

Continuing with Kahlil Gibran, sharing my favourite lines from the Book Between Night and Morn.

~Be silent, my heart, until Dawn comes,
For he who patiently awaits the morn
Will meet him surely, and he who loves
The light will be loved by the light...

...Be silent, my heart, until Morn comes,
For he who awaits patiently the coming
Of Dawn will be embraced longingly by
Morningtide.
Dawn is breaking.Speak if you are able,
My heart.Here is the procession of
Morningtide...Why do you not speak?
Has not the silence of night left
A song in your inner depths with which
You may meet Dawn? [Between Night and Morn]

~"Hypocrisy will always remain, even if her finger tips are coloured and polished;and Deceit will never change even if her touch becomes soft and delicate; and Falsehood will never turn into Truth even if you dress her with silken robes and place her in the palace;and Greed will not become Contentment;nor will Crime become virtue. And Eternal Slavery to teachings, to customs, and to history will remain Slavery even if she paints her face and disguises her voice. Slavery will remain Slavery in all her horrible form,even if she calls herself Liberty." [The Tempest, Part three]

Overwhelmed!

Recently, I had a wonderful opportunity of attending a book reading by Gulzar ji's Neglected Poems, his new collection of poems translated by Pavan Verma. Gulzar ji is a gem of a lyricist and a poet. I absolutely love his lyrics...
Nevertheless it was a dream come true to hear him read his poetry...so I grabbed my copy and needless to say thoroughly enjoyed reading The Neglected Poems. Gulzar ji's poems are simple and oh-so rich in imagery!
Sharing one of my favourite from the collection..

ऐश ट्रे पूरी भर गई है ...

जगह नहीं और डायरी में
ये ऐश ट्रे पूरी भर गई है
भरी हुई है जले बुझे अध् कहे ख्यालों की रख-व-बू से
ख्याल पूरी तरह से जो की जले नहीं थे
मसल दिया या दबा दिया था , बुझे नहीं वो
कुछ उनके टुर्रे पड़े हुये हैं
बस एक दो कश ही लेके कुछ मिसरे रह गए थे

कुछ ऐसी नज़्में जो तोड़ कर फेंक दी थी उसमें
धुआं न निकले
कुछ ऐसे आशार जो मेरे 'ब्रैन्ड' के नहीं थे
वो एक ही कश में खांस कर , ऐश ट्रे में
घिस के बुझा दिए थे

इस ऐश ट्रे में
'ब्लेड' से काटी रात की नब्ज़ से टपकते
सियाह कतरे बुझे हुए हैं
छिले हुए चाँद की त्राशें
जो रात भर छील छील कर फेंकता रहा हूँ
घड़ी हुई पेंसिलों के छिलके
ख्यालों की शिदद्तों से  जो टूटती रही हैं ।

The Ash-tray is Overflowing

No more place is left in the diary:
This ash-tray is completely full!
It is full of the ash and smell of
Half-lit, half-burnt, half-said thoughts;
Thoughts which were not yet fully alight
Stubbed or pushed away, not yet extinguished;
Only some remnants lying about
And some verses
From whom only one or two drags were taken.

Some poems broken and thrown in
so that they do not smoulder;
Other couplets, not of my brand,
Stubbed, after coughing on but one puff.

In this ash-tray
Lie extinguished black drops
Dripping from the vein of the night
Cut by a blade;
Slivers from the moon
Which I have scraped the whole night;
Shavings of pencil which
Kept breaking against the extremes of thought.

Source: Neglected Poems, Gulzar
Translated by Pavan K. Varma

Freebird...

Sharing a beautiful rendition of a punjabi poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi- Jee Chahe Panchhi Ho Jaava sung by Jasleen Royal.

The original poem and its translation is as follows:

Jee chaahe panchi ho jaavaan,
Ud daa jaavaan, gaunda jaavaan,
Anchuhe sikharaan nu Choo paavaan,
Is duniya deeyaan raahvaan bhul ke
Pher kade na vaapas aavaan.

I wish that I could be a bird
That I could fly, that I could sing,
That I could touch untouchable peaks,
That I could forget the roads of the world,
And never return.

Ja ishnaan karaan vich jam-jam
La Deekaan peeyaan daan da paani.
Maan-sarovar de beh kande
Tutta jiha ik geet maen gaavaan.
Ja baethaan vich khireeyaan royeean
Phakaar pauna itar-sajoeeyaan.
Him-Teesiyaan moiyaan moiyaan
Yugaan yugaan taun kakkar hoiyaan
Ghut kaleje maen garmaavaan.
Jee chaahe panchi ho jaavaan. 

I would bath luxuriously
Drinking long sips of water.
By the shore of a great lake,
I would sing a halting song.
I would go into a flowering wilderness
Gulp the perfume laden winds.
I would warm in a tight embrace,
The peaks of mountains,
Deadened by centuries of freezing cold.
I wish that I could be a bird.

Hoe aahlana vich shatootaan,
Jaan vich jand, kareer, sarootaan,
Aaun poorere de seet faraate,
Lachkaare iyun laen Daaliyaan
JyuN koi Doli kheDe jaReeyaan
Vaal khalaari lae lae jhootaan.
Ik din aisa jhakkarh jhulle
Ud pud jaavan sab hi teelee
Be-ghar be-dar main ho jaavaan.
Saari umar peeyaan ras gham da
Aise nashe vich jind handaavaan,
Jee chaahe panchi ho jaavaan.


My nest would be among the mulberry trees,
On in the caper, the mesquite or the cypress.
When the cold east wind blew
The jewelled branches would bend
As if playing, swaying
With their hair flying in the wind.
One day there would be a storm
And all the twigs would all scatter.
Nestless, homeless, I would become,
For the rest of my life I would drink the nectar of sorrow
And live my life in its intoxication.
I wish that I could be a bird...

source: jee chahe panchhi ho jaava

Nargissi Nargissi...

So just another day i when i was taking my quick evening nap, Dad storms into my room to get me flowers.. but this time it was different.. coz the flower itself was different. And before giving them, he says a dialogue:

"हजारों  साल  नर्गिस  अपनी  बेनूरी  पे  रोती  है

बड़ी  मुश्किल  से  होता  है  चमन  में  दिदाह-ए-वर  पैदा!"

 In my semi-slumber state i confuse the dialogue to be from the movie Mughal-e-Azam.. but then I figure out it's none other than Pakeezah. ahh...well, both are dad's absolute favourites and we've watched them together over zillion times! Nevertheless i do eventually get the beautiful Nargis flowers... overpowered by its fragrance, i put them in my bedroom. So officially i declare it as my favourite flower: Nargis. 

The poetry is by Sir Dr. Allama Iqbal and the movie Pakeezah ends with this dialogue in Kamal Amrohi's voice... =)

"Hazaron Saal Nargis Apni Benoori Pe Roti Hai
Badi Mushkil Se Hota Hai Chaman Mein Didahwar Paida"

For a thousand years the narcissus has been lamenting its blindness;
With great difficulty the one with true vision is born in the garden.

In White and yellow: Nargis

 23.1.12

24.1.12: Oh My! revelation! :) =/ just discovered that the Nargis flower is nothing but a variant specie of the flower-Narcissus or more commonly called DAFFODILS!

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils...

-William Wordsworth!

oh! aren't they just soo beautiful?! =) sigh.

source: Dr Allama Iqbal poetry
read more about: Narcissus the flower

 

Threads...

All the cold, chilly wind that blows
A wilderness of sensation it evokes.
Creates a whirlpool of emotions in there,
The source of which i'm still finding..oh where?

Rainbows within rainbows, colours are myriad
Words within words, creating a facade.
Words are like nails, if they can fix, they can even cause holes.
All that is left now are two hollow, empty souls.

Covered with polythene, a fresh yet temporary dew
Threads entangled, lots left to sew.

Stitching corners, pleated folds
No more wax in human moulds.

Crossroads are many, closures few
Endless journey, people new.

From dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn
A silent fight, the threads are torn.

Clouds overhead, swayed by pleasure
Threads broken, lost loved treasure.

The ends loose,
unable to fuse.
The ends lost,
how much really does a new thread cost?!

29.11.11

Áftab Ámad Dalil-i Áftáb

Love, The Hierophant

'Tis heart-ache lays the lover's passion bare:

No sickness with heart-sickness may compare.

Love is a malady apart, the sign

And astrolabe of mysteries Divine.

Whether of heavenly mould or earthly cast,

Love still doth lead us Yonder at the last.

Reason, explaining Love, can naught but flounder

Like ass in mire:Love is Love's own expounder.

Does not the sun himself the sun declare?*

Behold him! All the proof thou seek'st is there.

~Rumi

* The line is a literal translation of the persian analogy 'Áftab Ámad Dalil-i Áftáb' meaning the appearing of the Sun is proof of the Sun and thus metaphorically implying that love indeed needs no explanation. The existence of love, is proof of Love. heh! it's a sort of cyclical reasoning! A-scientific but then as i mentioned before, it has a feel factor attached to it! Hence, according to me, it's completely futile and a waste of time to define love objectively, as humorous it is, to read physicists debate on the existence of the sun!

Silver Dollar.                                        9.7.11

Ambrosia

Breathing Love

'I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.

Like this.'

 -Rumi

It's almost as if i've come a full circle, literally and metaphorically. Arrived where i started from-myself!

From being a blind sculptor,the abstract tree, one of the 3 cats in a bin,the feather pen of a diary,a nosy boss, a compass, a demanding weaver,a lonely sharpener in a pencil box,a rigid sun,a hyperventilated designer, a confused foetus to an abstract painter or 'banwri'! Played many parts, created and destroyed, and at times, even rendered useless!

These past 4 years of my association with Centre for Creative Expressions,Karmic Research Centre (to know more:http://krcindia.org/ )has been divine. Not only because of the people i met there and connected to but because of it being an instrument or an inspiration to work with myself, which by the way i realized i love doing! It has been a subtly selfish journey,whether it be meditations,numerous theatre workshops (particularly 'Deewano ki  Mehfils') or just being ME, i.e. tangible and intangible, lower self and higher self,real and 'maya'...everything and nothing!

Me, who took up this path of being a seeker, exploring with expression and love, undeterred and courageous, with occasional bumps of fear and confusions, withdrawals and guilt, but the path still remains... LIT as it always was. . .

Resplendent with Universe's incandescent energies of all kind from the so-called negative to positive, learning to use each one of them with the right INTENT.Yes, my journey with the self(/centre) can be summarized with work around this one word. INTENT OF UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. Quite an abstraction! They're like some of the words and concepts (Meditation and happiness being another) which can't be described or explained or defined objectively! But can definitely be experienced. I do have an inkling and can proudly claim that i HAVE experienced them and have been privileged enough to realize them, allowing myself to be open to all kinds of energies involved in it, whether they are intellectual or emotional,(or again so called negative to positive)

And may be i would never be able to define such words in 'words' and may be i don't even want to! Coz i cherish those Moments! I go by experience...always have and i quite admire this quality about myself,otherwise i would never have had such experiences (which includes meeting/'working' with some amazing people that i have/am/will) Sometimes, words don't mean a thing, and that's where the 'experience' part seeps in. It's like a visualization that you see in your mind or a rythm that rings in your ears or a choreography that makes you dance! 

I'm not gifted with words(for better or worse?) but i am gifted (like numerous other children of universe) with the ability to experience this Intent and Unconditional Love and a vehicle to share it by inviting you to this indescribable and indefinable experience! and That... I often do... with eclectic approaches and techniques! Who would understand and feel this better than Aks, your reflection!? =)

PS: And yes, Love is a selfishly unselfish act, but it's definitely NOT a Commodity! It's not malicious or polluted either. It's difficult, yet it is essential! And one of the uniqueness of this Act is that you cannot ACT it out! Rather...you won't be able to! You won't be able to cheat or pretend or wear a mask! and still it is a theatre of life, and we all must play our parts! ;)

Khunuk ân kas ke chu mâ shud, hame taslîm u rezâ shud
Geruv-e 'ishq u junûn shud, guhar-e bahr-e safâ shud.

 

'Happy the one who has become like us;
who has become all surrender and contentment;
Who has become the pledge of love and madness;
who has become a jewel in the sea of purity.'

-Rumi

Hare Krishna!

Kingdom of Dreams

A World, passionless and dry.
A Pond, a static reverie.
A Fish, harvesting in futile.
Swimming in the waters of an Astute Observer.
Grandiose illusion of grandiose fervor.

A Frog, croaking day and night.
The Fish, a patient listener.
Swimming in the waters of comfort.
An arcane mind
She wishes to find.

The Astute Observer, scared of effusiveness.
The Fish, stripped of nakedness.
Swimming in the waters in search of home.
An empty pond she wishes to refill only with the waters of The Astute Observer.
A passionate preserver...

The Frog and The Astute Observer
A mere mirrors, overcome with trepidation of affinity.
The fish, anticipating the Equinox.
Caught in the charade of emotions, they wax pleasure.
Grandiose illusion of grandiose treasure.

Eyes: of The Fish, The Frog and The Astute Observer
A cauldron of desire, stirring the grey matter
studded with ashes and roasted with madness.
Grandiose illusion of grandiose Happiness...

We must flow to the river, to keep this Kingdom alive... =)

The fragrance that clings...

 नाय़ाब (priceless, rare)

हकीकत  में  क्यों  साथ  नहीं ?!

चले  जा  रहे  हैं  बस  युहीं,

हकीकत  क्या  है  और  क्या  नहीं

जैसे  रेल  की  पटरी  पर  चल  रहे  हैं |

नाय़ाब  हैं  हम,  नाय़ाब  हो  तुम ...

एक  हसरत  दिल  मैं  लिए  

अधूरी   ख्वाहिशों   के   परदे   सिये, 

मुल्कों   मुल्कों   मैं  ये   ख़त   तुम  तक   लिए 

जैसे  रेल  की  पटरी  पर  चल  रहे  हैं |

नाय़ाब  हैं  हम,  नाय़ाब  हो  तुम ...

जैसे  आँखों   की  इबादत  है

कायिनात   की  शरारत   है ,

इस   इत्र   से   महक   ता- उम्र   यह   इबादत  है 

जैसे  रेल  की  पटरी  पर  चल  रहे  हैं |

नाय़ाब  हैं  हम,  नाय़ाब  हो  तुम ...

एक  दुआ  से  बाँधा  यह  समाः  है 

राख  में  महफूज़  शम्मा  का  जलना  है,

कहें  तो  बस  इन  ख़्वाबों  के  महफ़िलों  का  दौर  यह  समाः  है 

जैसे  रेल  की  पटरी  पर  चल  रहे  हैं|

नाय़ाब  हैं  हम,  नाय़ाब  हो  तुम ...

 नाय़ाब 

 नाय़ाब

 नाय़ाब | 

Indeed, love is... unconditional! =)

A thousand desires such as these

Just felt like sharing a piece of beautiful poetry... a combination of song Hazaron Khwaishein aisi (part2) and the original ghazal by Ghalib

A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these

हज़ारों  ख्वाहिशें  ऎसी  की  हर  ख्वाइश  पे  दम  निकले
बहुत  निकले  मेरे  अरमान  लेकिन  फिर  भी  कम  निकले 

(Thousands of desires, each worth dying for...
many of them I have realized...yet I yearn for more...)

 I loved rain as a child
As a lost young man
Empty landscapes
Bleached by a tired sun
And then
And then suddenly it came
Like a dark unknown woman
Her eyes scorched my silences
Her body wrapped itself around me
Like a summer without end

 निकलना  खुल्द  से  आदम  का  सुनते  आये  थे  लेकिन
बहुत  बे-आबरू  होकर  तेरे  कूचे  से  हम  निकले 

(We have heard about the dismissal of Adam from Heaven,
With a more humiliation, I am leaving the street on which you live...

another metaphorical meaning: of the unclean birth of man from the womb one has heard

But you must see my rebirth when i passed shamelessly by your door... )

Pause me, hold me, reach me,
Where no man has gone
Crossing the seven seas
With the wings of fire
I fly towards nowhere
And you
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a scorched landscape of pain

मुहब्बत  में  नहीं  है  फर्क  जीने  और  मरने  का
उसी  को  देख  कर  जीते  हैं  जिस   काफिर पे  दम  निकले 

 (When in love, there is little difference between life and death
we live by looking at the infidel who we are willing to die for)

A thousand desires such as these
A thousand moments to set this night on fire
Reach out and you can touch them
You can touch them with your silences
You can reach them with your lust
Rivers mountains rain
Rain against a torrid hill’s cape
A thousand
A thousand desires such as these...

हज़ारों  ख्वाहिशें  ऎसी  की  हर  ख्वाइश  पे  दम  निकले
बहुत  निकले  मेरे  अरमान  लेकिन  फिर  भी  कम  निकले...

the complete ghazal:

डरे  क्यों  मेरा  कातिल  क्या  रहेगा  उसकी  गर्दन  पर
वो  खून  जो  चश्म-ए-तर  से  उम्र  भर  यूं  दम -बे-दम  निकले 

(so don’t cry , my love, you didn’t cause this pain

 It was my fault that I fell so intensly in love with you.)

भरम  खुल  जाए  ज़ालिम  तेरे  कामत   की  दराजी  का
अगर  इस  तुर्रा -ए -पुरापेच -ओ -ख़म  का  पेच -ओ -ख़म  निकले 

 (Oh tyrant, your true personality will be known to all
if the curls of my hair slip through my turban!)

 

मगर  लिखवाये  कोई  उसको  ख़त  तो  हमसे  लिखवाये 
हुई  सुबह  और  घर  से  कान  पर  रख कर  कलम  निकले 

(for a long while, I wanted no more than that I get to write the poetic letters

your many admires make me write to you,

 i went each day, like to work , with a pen behind my ear)

 

हुई  इस  दौर  में  मंसूब  मुझसे  ब़डा-आशामी 

फिर  आया  वो  ज़माना  जो  जहां  से  जाम -ए -जम  निकले 

(and I was acquainted with such intoxication during this period of knowing you,

that the world , after ,  appeared  passionless and dry.)

हुई   जिनसे  तवक्को  खस्तगी  की  दाद  पाने  की
वो  हमसे  भी  ज्यादा  खस्ता -ए -तेग -ए -सितम  निकले 

(From whom I expected justice/praise for my weakness
turned out to be more injured with the same cruel sword)

ज़रा  कर  ज़ोर  सीने  पर  की  तीर -ए -पुरसितम  निकले
जो  वो  निकले  तो  दिल  निकले  जो  दिल  निकले  तो  दम  निकले  

( Put some pressure on your heart to remove that cruel arrow,
for if the arrow comes out, so will your heart...and your life)

खुदा  के  वास्ते  पर्दा  न  काबे  से  उठा  ज़ालिम
कहीं  ऐसा  न  हो  याहाँ  भी  वही  काफिर  सनम  निकले  

(For god's sake, don't lift the cover off any secrets you tyrant
the infidel might turn out to be my lover!)

कहाँ  मैखाने  का  दरवाज़ा  ग़ालिब  और  कहाँ  वाइज़
पर  इतना  जानते  हैं  कल  वोह  जाता  था  के  हम  निकले 

(The preacher and the bar's entrance are way apart
yet I saw him entering the bar as I was leaving!)

Winter...

The silken zephyr blows through my face,
lustrous,velvety,

Shades of grey with silver sparkles
through my soul,the empty space...

The changing seasons have always been amusing to the human mind...
the season of winter too causes ambivalence in our life,Universe and everything around us.
It symbolises death and isolation for some and a beginning and union for others.
Standing amidst all is a tree.., a figment of my imagination.
give it a colour- violet,silver,gold,turquoise, white? (or black?)
give it a voice- agnostic.
give it a shape- abstract

This winter I experienced a journey in its own... Through a face,i give it mine! =) and engaged in a dialogue with this so called multiple branched 'abstract' tree! This season too my friend and i were discussing NUMBNESS, when we boiled down to saying that it can be caused by two factors (broadly speaking!) : extreme pleasure or extreme sadness (oh well, sadness would be an understatement,desolation or melancholy would sound better?! =/ ) But apart from the discussion, i experienced Numbness too this winter... (the reason of which i'm still trying to figure out!) The point i'm trying to make is maybe Numbness doesn't really have a causation... (just a maybe).. It's a void after all... a deep abyss.., the 'grays' in life that i often ignore/d while switching from white to black or vice-versa...

This season too... I caught a glimpse of the Winter Moon

                         and we smiled together at the insipid world of gloom!

                         I touched the fresh morning dew,

                         I saw some flowers,blossomed,yet how few!

                         I stood amidst the Haze, i warmed myself in the 'halki dhoop'

                        And yet again, i start anew...

coz in the end...               "जैसा दर्द हो, वैसा मंज़र होता है 

                                       मौसम तो इंसान के अन्दर होता है ! "

P.S.- This was written in a state of disgust yet satisfaction of having facilitated a meditation,and making others see the light, and yet not being able to do it myself... (strange,isn't it?!)

nevertheless, 'I received'... THANKS to the 'Mirror', and the entire cast (aks ,sugandha, sanjana, shivangi, yamini)co-workers(Apurva,Samira,Diva) of  'मौसम तो इंसान के अन्दर होता है',a dialogue... (

  " Even when times are a mixed bag of fare,
   When tepid or eager highs and lows snare,
    There is a gentle space within me
       Where I can be, as creative as can be! " =)

                                          

महफूज़ इन कागज़ों के पन्नो में
एक एहसास है,
महफूज़  इस सफ़ेद रंग में,
रंग कुछ ख़ास हैं |


महफूज़ इस चेहरे में
एक आस है,
महफूज़ इन होटों में
प्यास है |


महफूज़ मुखौटे में
राज़ है,
महफूज़ हर धुन में
साज़ है |


महफूज़ आग में
गर्मी है,
महफूज़ चाँद में
नर्मी है |


महफूज़ इस गहरे कोहरे में
तस्वीर है,
महफूज़ इस दाव में
तकदीर है |


महफूज़ इस काली स्याही में
अमर होने की चाह है,
महफूज़ हर दिशा में
एक राह है |


महफूज़ मोमबत्ती में
पिघलने की  क्षमता है,
महफूज़ इस रुके हुए आसूं  में
पिघली  हुई  ममता  है |


महफूज़ उस  मासूम बच्चे की हसी में
एक अजीब जज़्बात है,
जो भुला दे पल में सारे तनाव
क्या बात है !


महफूज़ उस शीशे में
एक स्थिर आकृति है,
महफूज़ फिर  गिर कर उठने, उठ कर चलने में
ही जागृती है |


महफूज़ उस मदिरा के जाम में
खामोशी है,
महफूज़ आँखों में
मदहोशी है |


महफूज़ हर शतरंज की चाल में
ख्याल है,
महफूज़ क्यों इतने सवाल हैं ?


महफूज़ इस लाल रंग में
यह कैसा गुरूर  है ?
महफूज़ हर जान में
एक आब-रूह है |


राख में ,
         फिराक है... महफूज़
अपने आप में,
         है महफूज़...


In love with the word Mehfuz...


completed on 7.12.09