लाशें

सब लाशें हैं
सब लाशें हैं
जिंदा कोई नही
सब लाशें हैं

चलती हैं
बोलती हैं
हस्ती कभी
कभी फूंट फूंट के रोती हैं
लाशें
सब लाशें हैं

गिरता है तोह कोई उठता नही
मरने पर मातम में भी कोई आता नही
जीते साथ हैं
मगर हैं कितने अकेले
लाशें
सब लाशें हैं

धड़कनें मशीन है
जस्बात मशीन है
इनकी सीरत भी इन्ही जैसी
बस शक्लें हसीन है
लाशें
सब लाशें हैं

इक पल का ख्वाब है
जो जाता नही
कितना भी बुलाओ
वोह कल आता नही
जिंदा रहने की होड़ में रोज़ मरते
लाशें
सब लाशें हैं

जिंदा कोई नही
सब लाशें हैं...

- Piy

Death is beautiful and peaceful.
Okuribito (Departures) explains that wonderfully. It deals with the uneasiness that people have regarding death.
The story is about the change in perception of a young man, who suddenly has to see death everyday. With subtle humour in some places places, it deals with the sensitive topic of death that most of us want to avoid and are very uncomfortable dealing with.
It's worth your time.

-Arundhati

Non-nursery rhyme

Mary had a little lamb
But the lamb was mean to Mary.
Mary tried to get rid of it,
But it refused to leave.
Mary tried a trick or two
yet it did not comply.
Days went by and nights went by
But the lamb stayed on for long.
Mary wished to kill the lamb
But too bad it was already dead.

So Mary, Mary be careful,
Next time you have a lamb.

In the heart of darkness
There is a light
The immeasurable blinding light.
What a man is
He himself does not know
Pretentious, pretending to be mysterious
He forgets his true self
And gives birth to a shadow

It is in the light that the shadow lives
A life of an unimaginable blinding darkness.
Lies become truth and truth a lie
Till the mask becomes one with the face.

And on one unintentional night
Unable to bear the heat from the light
The man sees himself in the mirror
And is stared back by the mask
So dark, it is darker than the secret
that gave birth to the mask.

The mask can't live with the face because of the light
The face can't live with the world without lying
For how long can truth and lie co-exist
And the wheel of time be immobile?


--Kopal Gautam

THE ROSE THAT GREW FROM CONCRETE : Tupac Shakur

Did u hear about the rose that grew from a crack
in the concrete
Proving nature's laws wrong it learned to walk
without having feet
Funny it seems but by keeping its dreams
it learned to breathe fresh air
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else cared!!

The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Carroll

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.


The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"


The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.


The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"


"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.


"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."


The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.


But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.


Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.


The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.


"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."


"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.


"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."


"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?


"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"


"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"


"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.


"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

New City

It is almost like a start from the end of the lane
The dead end doesn’t open but takes me through it
I am wrapped in a bizarre quilt
Not feeling cold in the very cold land
The walls are freezing and they merge with me often.
I am dazed and yet at my best
Smiling at all that I come across
Awake nights after nights
Meeting the stars in the other land
Out of love, yet soaked in it
Making acquaintances, looking for my lover
Flashes of days passing in a jiffy
The new city seems apprehensive about me
The buildings collapse often
And the towers keep rising
Reaching an epitome of jammed clouds
Still floating and exploring the city

--Payal

Dude! Yeh galat hai!

Galti kar li maine
Yaad ho gayi nani
Do glass chai ke saath
Pi li nimbu pani

Galti kar li maine
Kyu ki itni daring?
Socha tha ‘Wah kya rapchick maal hai’
Nikla bobby darling

Galti kar li maine
Kyu li maine doston ki side
Maine socha woh mujhe dhek rahi hai
Par woh nikli cockeyed

Galti kar li maine
Kyu thi charbi khub saari?
Was thinking office nahi jaye, aaj.
Subha ko muster sign kiya. Agli subha ko exit maari.


-Austin.

A Caution To Everybody

Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.

-Ogden Nash

When it is gonna rain this time...

I would be floating in the sand.
Digging my feet deep into the water.

When it is gonna rain this time...
I would let the umbrella go upside down.
I would catch the first cloud that agrees to take me to the beach.
I would smile and smile and break the ice.

When it is gonna rain this time...
The girls would giggle to not get a penny.
The boys would hide with their black gloves lost.
The old woman neighbour might complain less.

When it is gonna rain this time...
I would be curled in a raindrop.
Sleeping tight.
No rainbow for me.
For I hate sunshine.

When it is gonna rain this time...

--Payal

Inspiration. Ignition.
Something that kick starts.


Speechless like the wind,
And can not be surpassed.

No hinting traces left behind.
All the gone chances,
Now wither in the hind.

From darkness into the light
I saw her face, what delight!
She is a moment’s peace
That cannot be acquired
You can get lucky
But its something not really required
For she knows you
As you don’t know her
You think it is love
But ain’t sure if you can tell her
It is a submission
Where all you take is a given
You try to understand
But there is no reason

Only an open prison, hard to break
Like an ironical fate
You think you’re given, what you take

- Piy

English language

This is a poem that inspired me a lot and for once made me think,writing poems could be fun.

Some words have different meanings,
and yet they’re spelt the same.
A cricket is an insect,
to play it — it’s a game.

On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed,
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed.

Some people say that you’re a dear,
yet dear is far from cheap.
A jumper is a thing you wear,
yet a jumper has to leap.

It’s very clear, it’s very queer,
and pray who is to blame
for different meanings to some words,
pronounced and spelt, the same?

A little journey is a trip,
a trip is when you fall.
It doesn’t mean you have to dance
whene’er you hold a ball.

Now here’s a thing that puzzles me:
musicians of good taste
will very often form a band —
I’ve one around my waist!

You spin a top, go for a spin,
or spin a yarn may be —
yet every spin’s a different spin,
as you can plainly see.

Now here’s a most peculiar thing —
’twas told me as a joke —
a dumb man wouldn’t speak a word,
yet seized a wheel and spoke.

A door may often be ajar,
but give the door a slam,
and then your nerves receive a jar —
and then there’s jars of jam.

You’ve heard, of course, of traffic jams,
and jams you give your thumbs.
And adders, too, one is a snake,
the other adds up sums.

A policeman is a copper,
it’s a nickname (impolite!)
yet a copper in the kitchen
is an article you light.

On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed —
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed!


Written by Harry Hemsley

Irregular Stream

An irregular stream of dreams is passing by,
The eyes are wide open and the world is in my arms.


There is someone somewhere looking at me,
I am not sure where I am.

Confined spaces, blocked tears,
There is a rather faint smile on the lips,
Someone in my dreams is feeling scared.

I politely dismiss the stream.
Walk in parallel.

Should I float in it?
Should I not?

Payal

something is out of place...

It’s not very usual, something is certainly out of place;
I am not yet sure, maybe I've lost something I can’t replace...!

What is a man to think, what is a man to say;
If, on a bright sunny morning, his skies turn all grey?

In the melancholy eyes of memory, I try to dig it out;
But what is it I look for, that still remains in doubt!

What is this feeling, the burden I feel on the heart;
Why won’t it stop, why does it keep tearing me apart?

True love never crossed me, of that I had grown sure;
Then what is it that lends me, this pain of love so pure?!

The storyteller

He travelled to undiscovered lands,
He met people who aren’t born yet.

From the mystical river,
Emerged the storyteller each and every night.
Waking me up from the midnight to the moon,
Weaving yards and yards of stories.

He kept his hands on my eyes,
And whispered in my ears.
Words of dreams, words of fiction.
Words of reality, words of lies.

His imagination goes as far as reality,
His reality is only but his imagination.

His characters die with him in the river,
Only to wake me up in the middle of the night.

Payal

Smiles pushed out of parted lips.
Heavy hearts that never smile and tip.
Hazy dreams, occupied with silent screams.
People so weary, with hearts so empty.

Your search is on. And forever it will be.
Eaten snow for lunch yet, or sipped water from the sea?
Please be on time, to butter your toast.
Or you’ll be late for your steaming latte
and force it while its cold.

The birds are humming
but you don’t have to hear…
the thoughts in your head are louder and clear.


-Arundhati

From slumdog to...

She tapped on the glass.
She gestured for a rupee.
I looked at her. I looked away. I looked at her again.

‘I’m not going to give you any money’. Of course I wasn’t going to.

And then I remembered…

There’s always something sweeter than a rupee. ‘Where did I see it last? Ahh, there it is.’

I pulled out the two candies I had in my bag.
Worth Rs. 2.00
Gave it to her.
Take eat.

She look at me. She looked at the candy.
She threw it back on the glass. It fell to the floor.

‘Tu kha’ is all she said.

That slum-bitch.



-Austin.

An Ode to My Childhood

Today, memories are looking through the glass,
Of the debates where no one would ever lose,
Of the evenings, where we always walked till the no man’s land,
Of the mornings, where the sun would melt in our eyes,
Of the nights, where the moon was right over our head,
Of the real stories about real people,
Narrated with passion,
Always with a glint in the eyes,
Of the white lies,
Of the black truths,
Of the magic webs,
Of the insane imagination,
Of no role models,
Of the stars that we always managed to count,
Of the moon who was at our beck and call,
Of the tears that could move the earth,
Of the laughter that could make the devil jealous.

Why so serious?

Why so serious?
Joker's dad asked him!
Why so serious?
Joker joked with me.

The smile streched from one end to another.
Its elastic almost ready to snap.

The full moon stories were told in vain.
Some humorous innuendoes were narrated with fake pleasure.
The sky crystal clear and the throat was blocked.
The air was so plaesant and the brain was jammed.

Why so serious?
Joker pointed at the lovely weather.
In an answer, it burst open.
Rained, till it drenched him.

Crying in the rain my friend?

Joker, Joker, Joker
No need to be a cynic, I spoke for a change.

He turned around, smiled,
The elastic stretched and broke
He walked away.

I was just being a joker.

-----Payal