At the Cafe, Always!

Writing with a pen which leaves blotched ink patches on the other side of the paper like memory of human life fading away or coming alive as each word is penned down remembering the best days or the worst, judging each moment for its truth on a new paper, especially a paper which blotched ink by my pen, holds me back before each word, for I can't pause on memory and relive my life through, for it will blotch the future of the notebook and mine. 

To save all the pages and my days intact, to write more on memory, I need to write fast. In doing so my future would be clean, white as a new sheet ready  to blotch, bathe or capture a new world of imagination .

In a busy Cafe, one would love to sip hot coffee and think each word before sacrificing it to the notebook.
But for me, either the coffee will go bad or the notebook will be filled. How much can you really follow down the memory lane sitting in a busy cafe with cups and saucers clinking and people rambling about their misadventures? How much can you really pen down worth sacrificing for a decent piece of literature without the coffee going bad and that too an expensive one?

Does one come to a cafe for their love for coffee and the exotic varieties they serve or to have conversations or to elevate moods after each sip or just for some space that lets you be amongst random residents of a nearby colony trying to get off the busy routines by visiting the cafe? 

As for me I just want to write. As for the cafe, it just wants me to bill for the coffee.
As for the paper, I need to turn it…

Jeevan pahad jitna hota hai

keval ek pahad

Choti tak pahunchna hota hai

Chadhte-chadhte talve thak jate hain

Badhte-badhte bhatak jate hain

Dholak ke bhajan-keertan yaad ate hain

Hey bhagwaan kehte-kehte hum chti tak ate hain

Pahad par mann ke gehre sannate hain

yahan jheengur bulate hain

Pahadon ka jeevan hota hai

keval ek jeevan

Pahadon mein rehne wale

nadi se milne ate hain

Ghaat par base log

pahad par teerth banate hain

Ghaat par mandiron mein 

Pahade padhe jate hain

Bas choti tak jana hota hai

aur neeche utar ana hota hai

E jeevan pahad jitna hota hai

Pahadon mein jeevan ka 

yatharth hota hai.

The waves are still moving

They move through the night

Every hour an inch closer to land

where humans stay

The rains are still pouring

every minute a droplet more

Where the rocks pray

the waves come and crash

the rains come in adash

Be there at that moment

And believe its truth.

A smile, a cry

A smile and a cry

follows a spell of a silent dry

eyes shut, leaving the sky

to blacken and arrive

from a corner of the eye

No meaning to derive

it's an abstract butterfly

with a smile on a wing

and a wing with a cry.

Yet there is a sky

to gobble in my breath

I think about why

a smile and a cry

can't be put togethere to a test

Some days make me think harder

some days just go by

My palms remain open

and my palm remain close

on some days

I am the abstract butterfly

sitting on a fence 

like a fence sitter

the profound width of the fence

is enough for a creature like me

enough to open up in harmony

the wing with a cry

with the wing with a smile.

Colony ke...

Wo har roz walk pe nikalte hain

ghane reshmi baalon wale

chamakdaar kali aankhon wale

sadak ka har kone jaanchne wale

apne yaron se milne milane

batiyane-gapiyane

Charcha karne ki aaj unke malik ne kaunsa kona

ghar ka bhar diya hai

jahan kabhi wo aram se pasra karte the

Ab unhein bhi naye kone dhoondhne pad rahe hain

Har sham yahi bahas chidti hai

ki kiska makan kitna bada hai

kiska malik kitna paise wala

garv se sabke seene chaude hain

malik ke bachhe unhein kitna pyaar karte hain

jab bhi apne school se laut.te hain

to ek baar to puchkaar hi lete hain

bhale hi unhein phir naukaron ke hawale kar diya jaye

jo khud ghar mein ek kona dhoondh rahe hain

Wo jante hain ki malik aksar phone par hote hain

apni ghoomti-phirti nazron se jab dhoondh lete hai

naye kaleen par ek reshmi baal

to naukaron par chillate hain

Jab kabhi mehmaan ate hain

to naukar ke saath inhein

kamre mein bandh kar diya jata hai

ya fir walk par le jane ka aadesh diya jata hai

Poori sadak ko almast chaal mein napte huye

dost ki wafadari mein feherati dum ka alsi maksad

bhaanpte huye

Wo jo har roz walk par nikalte hain

apni gol-gol kali aankhon se

ek shadyantra rachte hain

Gardan par patta kuch aur kass jata hai.

Colony ke manager ne sadak pe ban aye

taza nakhunon ke nishaan ko dekha nahin hai ab tak

naukar bhi samajh rahe hain

ki chain ab aur tan gayi hai

Silsila aise hi chalte raha

to ek din kuch haath achaanak dheele pad jayenge

aur wo jo walk par nikle the

lapak padenge apne malikon par

Tab building ka guard bhi kya kar lega

Tab naukar bhi ek kadam peeche hath jayenge

keh kar ki, "Kutte hain saale…ek lapka….to sab lapke".