Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

ujaale

Posted on | November 1, 2006 | Comments Off

ujaalon ki fitrat ajeeb hoti hai.

kabhi andhere ke saaye se ye ujaale jhaankte hain,
kabhi ye khud andhere ban jaate hain,
kabhi koi ujala apne me samet leta hai andhere ko,
to kabhi ujaalon se andhere phoot parte hain,
garm paani ke jharno ki tarah,ye ujaale,
tan badan par behte hain,
dete hain ek ajeeb se sansanahat badan ko,
jaise kisi mehbooba ne chhua ho,
to kabhi ye ujaale aankhon par ek ajeeb si wahshat ke saath chhate hain,
ujaale..zindagi banate hain,zindagi mitate hain.

rangheen hote hain ujaale,
aur kabhi ujale me nikaar aate hain andhere ke rang,
koi ujala maano lipat parta hai saanso se,
aur ujaale saanse band bhi kar dete hain..
zindagi;maut;andhera;ujala;ujala;andhera..
dwait sambandh,kya hai ujala aue kya hai andhera?
kaun hai zindagi?kiski aahat se jaagti hai maut?

mere andhero ki to ujaale hi jindagi hain.
na-qabil-e-eitbaar ujaalon ke kandhon par;
main apne andhero ka sar rakh kar so jaata hoon.

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