Kale badal

धूल बह गई थी बरान्दों से,

आचार भी भींग गयी है छत पर,

बादल वही खड़े थे ऊपर,

भींगता रहा मैं  वहीँ पर और बारिश फिर भी होती रही।

कुत्ते बिल्ली थितुर गाए हैं, घोसले तो गिले वाही पड़े है,

भींग चुके हैं बच्चे भी और छोटे पंची पेड़ और फूल,

और उनपर झूमते भवरे भी

हम खेलते फिर भी रोज़ वहीँ पर 

और बारिश फिर भी होती रहि।

गड्ढे भर चुके थे ज्यादा, बढ़ाते अपना दायरा सड़कों पर।

पंखे सो गए थे सबके घर पर सबके 

बिना बिजली के, पर गर्मी कभी कम ना होती,

हम वही खेलते रहे पसीने में, पर बारिश  होती रहि।

थक गए थे पेड़ और पत्ते,

झटक झटकर पानी उनपर से।

पर लोग और गाड़ियाँ कभी न रुकते,

रेल न रुकति, न रुकता डाक और फिर भी न

रुकति हमारी हिम्मत, काले बादल के मौसम में।

हम वहीँ लड़ते खेलते रहे

और भी कई घंटों तक

और बारिश तब भी होती रही।

System

The wires are cluttered and the poles keep their stand, the

gulmohur, well is growing more than planned, the roads are full 

with us and some rains edges are broken and the mornings, 

are same.

The same is to change and make it new, for a few I know 

and leave rest to plough.

Machines keep rushing and new are made and

also minds love that change. Walls are to be painted

and so we change clothes, and places and men

we change all close, then make new friends 

and break all done to find new ways for just our sons.

Clouds keep coming and going as they like, and change the

seasons on there own sweet like, they don't ask me 

what I like and neither to the ones who live

on its sight, 

The system is strange as it doesn't meet all,

things rupture in time till it reaches where

asked.

But, he talks to me day in and out, and doesn't let

me speak my million shouts, he asks my life, my

day and Monday still forget's to ask how was I 

today.

I stare at him for hours along and love him for he

is learned and sound, he loves to play and

write and help and always tips me when I

sell. I know he's a little boring and dark but

has a sharp brain with golden heart. But whatever he's made its special

I know, as he's in all there what we see around.

Dumpati

छॆ बज गए उठो जल्दि,
बच्चो को उठाना है, नाश्ता भी बनाना है।
अखबार वाला नहीं आया आज,
और दूधवाले की तो दूध फट गयी आज।

आलू को तो छौक  दिया,
फूल वाली की तो अपनी मर्ज़ी है',
और कुछ अगर बाकि हो तो,
बच्चों के गाड़ीवान की अपनी मर्ज़ी है।

जल्दी से फिर दोनों हम,
तैयार हुए बच्चों के संग।
छोड़ा बच्चो को पाठशाला फिर,
और चल दिए अलग रास्तों पर साथ फिर।

Dhun

दूर से वह सूरज की एक किरण दिखाई पड़ती है,
दिन में भी आँखों से ही दिखाई पड़ती है,
सब सोचते थे कैसे यह कौन इन्सान है,
जिसे रोशनी में भी अजीब  सी धुन सुनाई पड़ती है।

New place

The clock  runs fast

and faster than asked,

it gave no time to sit and breathe.

mornings to nights and weeks and months,

all moved so fast, but moon and sun.

New people I meet, love they speak,

its soothing sometimes, but I don't grasp them

more and food it changes and water and spices

and also the mornings, the evenings, and talks,

the more of soil, and sunrise,

all are different here but faith.

In this place so strange,

I don't understand what to do?

My routine is gone, the metro I used,

new people I saw, the new expressions

each day, a few just talk, a few listen and a

few fought for small change and more in 

the sun, all work so hard,

to sustain.

Self

The sun is up and I am down,
the rays enters the windows and make me frown.
The birds need to sing and dance and and eat
and flowers are ready for them to feed.
The dust has settled, the news paper has come
all the people are up for some pun.
The clothes have dried and ironed they lie.
Oh! I don't want to get up today,
oh! let me sleep for at least this day.
I kept yelling and telling in air, but
not a sole was hearing it there.
there's a clock on the wall and few papers
on the ground and the linen and curtains to hear
that sound. None it cared for what I said,
if they heard, they kept to self.

The rain has gone

The rain has gone, the balcony dried
the dust and mud makes few marks.
the newspaper on the balcony was wet
and now has dried, it makes a silhouette on
the broken bricks, its no use now.The day
is pale again it was just bright some
time back, the clothes had been getting wet
again and again and have now dried.
The grass has grown way too much. The paint
on the gate wears off that part gets rust,
the railings are also rusted. The old Murky
doesn't enjoy any more. The sparrows are not
coming, the flower women has not come. Away
a little far, I hear the pray, its a mosque in the
town a few kilometres away. The gulmohurs don't
flower now and neither the marigold.
The morning tea is watery but Mrs. Sharma
never fails to serve it with pista biscuits to Sharma Uncle.
She knows he likes it that way.