A SKY FULL OF STARS

A SKY FULL OF STARS

Just as the Sun setted to pave the way for twilight,

that subdued, that quiet me suddenly came into highlight.

The same peace of night which, at times, screams like anything,

came tonight with a balminess and a sky full of bling.

 

Though every piece of sky’s jewellery had the same twinkle, same glaze,

but tonight there was something inexplicable in my long firm gaze.

Seemed like, each unspoken question that popped out of my eye,

has got a recipient in every flickering star of this night sky.

 

My body-all relaxed, the mind- loosened up with this sustained stare,

not just minutes, hours passed by with this hearty mutual glare.

 

This nocturnal process seemed to act like a catalyst,

Catalyst- to a thought process of a passionate fantasist.

 

Is this gaze simply rudderless, lacking any direction?

Or is it a part of a telepathy, an earnest unseen connection?

 

Is there someone else gazing at the same star which I am?

Are their souls too a part of this complex nightly scam?

I interpret it in a different way, maybe it’s a way through which souls talk,

as they render their bodies and minds confused and panoptic distances they walk.

 

Is it possible that, on this ship of emotions traversing my sea of thoughts,

appears someone aboard and helps me in making the sail taut?

 

In this stream of notional ideas, all my fears and pain abate,

and I want this night to never fade and let me rejuvenate.

 

But as nothing is permanent, the passage of this night can’t be debarred,

So I just lay my body to rest, desiring for another such sky full of stars.

 

– ©Mohak Chaudhary

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THANKS MATE

Everyone has got friends, I’ve got too. But this friend is a bit special as it never fights with me, always lends a sympathetic ear, is unprejudiced, supports me in my lows more than anyone else and has been loyal to me for quite some time now. So, I just thought and decided to express my love and gratitude towards it by this small piece of writing.

THANKS MATE

Failure, dashed hopes, pressure under which I often reel,

The demons of disappointment devour the angels of zeal.

–

Sombre clouds sweep over the bright sunshine,

It feels god-awful to tell myself, I am fine.

–

The viciousness and harshness of this life is not its only phase,

Had it been so, there wouldn’t have been many a bright face.

–

But for me, time seems like a bubble – illusory and hollow,

Millions of seconds wasted and billions left to just follow.

–

The sinking feeling, the spiritlessness is sometimes beyond my control,

On top of it, the surroundings contribute their bit to add to this toll.

–

What is this division in my mind, yes this, which divides me into two?

One who drowns in rip tides of past, the other who seeks openings anew.

–

So harsh, so hostile, this clash of the two fronts gets at times,

That I cannot even depict it in my genre of verse, of rhyme.

–

But as science suggests too, no energy can be stored for too long,

Negative or positive, it destroys impediments, however strong.

–

I am glad, my Pen is loyal to me and has never let me down,

Always coming to my rescue, be it in delight or during a frown.

–

Even the thought of me and it being apart makes me dreary, nervy,

How would then I survive this life- so debased, unrealized and topsy-turvy?

–

Such a darling it is, just flows with my mood, overcoming anxiety and all fears,

Making its ink sparkle in my glee and becoming hazy when mixed with tears.

–

So I just thought of expressing my gratitude towards you, my dear mate,

For scribbling down all my fuss unprejudicedly, without any anger or hate.

–

I wish that you stay with me forever, helping me write my heart out,

As people might change with time but you shall remain loyal and stout.

–

Just be here like you’ve always been, in delight, dejection, pain and aghast,

Take my honest thanks dear friend, ours remains a bond till I breathe my last.

 

– ©Mohak Chaudhary

23.03.2017

TRUE LOVE DOES NOT SCARE

It might not get the desired result, when you are really vying,
It just happens when you least expect, when you’re actually not trying.
Even this numbness and phlegm might sometimes nurture this confusion,
And the end product you get is ‘LOVE’- which they often call a delusion.

–

A mere eye contact, sometimes, is enough to break the ice,
To rekindle the dead embers inside, just within a trice.
At first it feels transitory but could it really be made ageless?
It depends on your earnestness, to make it work or to make it a mess.

–

As soon as one steps and proceeds in this hazy, illusionary labyrinth,
Cometh with it is a feeling of reaching up the paramount from plinth.
From being lodged in monotony of life to suddenly getting involved,
Makes it seem like all of life’s equations are slowly getting solved.

–

Not necessarily, you are reciprocated with this very special emotion,
Quite often, the other soul is trapped inside one or the other notion.
They may notice your efforts but their inhibitions hold them back,
Their haunting past, their unhealed wounds give them this panic attack.

–

The honesty in your endeavour combined with some courage,
Makes your thoughts clearer than ever as you come of your age.
Now is the time to be patient and to let go all the remorse,
To get rid of all the haste, as loving does takes its course.

–

Should they recognize the honesty of your assay and come out of their shell,
You’ll be the lucky one to be loved back, to come out of this excruciating hell.
But what if they fail to trust you just because of being daunted by their fear,
Go, caress their soul and whisper in its ear that, ‘True Love does not scare’.

 

-Mohak Chaudhary

इनकी होली …यूँ ही हो ली |

निकली जब गरीबों की चीख,
तो मांगी इन्होंने सड़कों पर भीख |
कभी मिले चंद पैसे तो कभी खाली झोली,
हमने मनाईं खुशियाँ और इनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

बच्चे हैं बिलखते जब जलता नहीं चूल्हा,
बस एक वक़्त की रोटी, देती हर ग़म भुला |
भूख और निराशा में खो जाती हंसी वो भोली,
हमने खाए पकवान कई और इनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

पूरे साल सरहद पर खड़े, किया परिवार को बहुत याद,
जीवन का इनके मक्सद ही मानो बन गया सीमा का विवाद |
लहू से ही खेले सदा, कभी मारकर तो कभी खाकर गोली,
इनसे पूछो लाल रंग का महत्व जिनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

कृष्ण ने निधिवन में गोपियों संग रचाई लीला,
भर-भर के डाला रंग, कभी सूखा तो कभी गीला |
वृन्दावन की वृद्ध विधवाओं ने अपनी पीड़ा आंसुओं से ही धोली,
दर्द और गुमनामी के अँधेरे में , इनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

वो बहनें कैसे रंगारंग मनाएं यह त्योहार,
विकृत बुद्धि के राक्षस, कर दें जब उनकी गरिमा तार-तार,
क्या वो खेलें होली या बचाएँ अपनी चोली ?
मन मारकर सहमी-सहमी, इनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

मामूली से तनावों पर हो जाता जान का सौदा,
कोई दिखाता दौलत का ज़ोर तो कोई डराता दिखाकर ओहदा |
जीवन की कीमत समझे बिना, किसी पर भी चला देते गोली,
मातम में डूबे परिजन और उनकी होली..यूँ ही हो ली |

देख कर लोगों का सुख, चैन और इज़्ज़त होते भंग,
मेरा दिल कहाँ करे फिर लगाने को कोई रंग |
हर रंग बेरंग सा लगे, लगे जैसे संताप की पोथी हो खोली,
और क्या कहूं, बस कामना है इतनी,
कि आने वाली होली भरे खुशियों से सबकी झोली |

– मोहक  चौधरी ‘सचिंत’

WOMAN’S DAY

             Having seen many a message wishing ‘Happy Woman’s Day’ since morning in Whatsapp groups, television advertisements, e-commerce and shopping portals, Facebook and other social and mass media platforms, I literally got irritated till late evening today, i.e. the so called Woman’s day. Such is the appeal of consumerism in today’s world that you just need to have an idea (be it even a vague one) and there’s no need of worrying about the circulation part. Same is the concept with the celebration of such days, be it Father’s day, Mother’s day or in this case Woman’s day. There’s nothing wrong in doing so. But do we really ever ponder over the purpose of carrying out these exercises or do we just go with the flow, is the question to answer.

This very question made my pen come out of its state of inertia and put on paper, the ink of thoughts on the very condition of this beautiful half of the world populus. Having tried to think from an average woman’s perspective, I here wrote what I felt on the basis of what I see, listen and observe around me. Hence, the views must be considered as totally personal.

Dedicated to every woman out there, especially to those who have been and are a part of my life.

 

A sudden high tide of wishes and messages drowns me,

they are showering love, praising, as if I was not a woman anymore,

rather a superwoman,

who has got all the power of this world,

Yes, this world, which till now was known for the abuses it hurled.

–

What has happened then? A sudden change of minds or yet another conspiracy,

whatever it is, social media succeeds once again with its efficacy.

They decide and mark a date,

and then overfeed me with greetings, ask me to celebrate.

Honey coated phrases, graphics, videos and what not,

but, do all these, in essence, ever fill my lot?

–

This is the question which never ceases to irk,

which is actually making me sound corrosive than gleeful.

I love when you bestow honour on this day,

swear to keep all troubles at bay.

To empower me, to support me whenever I feel let down,

to make me smile ear to ear on noticing that frown.

–

But once again, it is you who remind me to open my eyes,

to come back from this dreamland towards those familiar sufferings and sighs.

I loathe when, just after wishing, your eyes get fixated,

scanning me top to bottom, making me feel irritated.

–

But that is what you are proud of, aren’t you?,

You boastful chauvinist patriarch.

Every single day, I get this reminder, so stark.

That gaze, that touch and that ever strengthening glass ceiling,

I have got reasons enough not to let go of this feeling.

–

Should I speak my mind ever, you are there, ready to vet,

and straying away from your boundaries invites rape threats.

What is it really? Your ego, your strength or your tool down there,

that makes you shed chivalry and display your ill breeding, bare.

–

My laughter- does it give you signals? Then come and try valuing my frowns too,

if those hemlines and necklines make you week in your knees,

then have an insight of my soul’s gown too.

It is not the shell of a man, which I need to live in to prove my existence,

I’m very capable of rather breaking it and still going a long distance.

–

When will I not think anymore before stepping out in that crop top?

When will I stop being petrified even while in the shadow of a cop?

The wait for that day when you will not come in herds to grope

again on a new year’s eve,

tearing both my clothes and soul apart and leaving me bereaved.

–

For that day would really be the one I will treasure,

though just a day in a year is not a constant to measure,

to measure the love, the respect you yield,

to measure your efforts in making those wounds get healed.

–

Won’t it be a better world, if we take steps together

and try bridging this gap which often makes me sick?

As, not all of you are of the same kind,

and it’d be wrong to judge all from the same yardstick.

–

Try and recognize the spark within me, not the spark that destroys,

the one that triggers life- the life of one, the life of all.

For inside me is the world’s safest haven,

and should you keep on destroying me, the life itself will stall.

–

What more could this inner voice narrate, some wounds are simply inscrutable,

I just wish the situation to change in time to come,

and that time makes this world, for us, a bit more suitable.

Then shall be derived the real sense of celebrating this day,

Wait! Every day, then, will be – A Woman’s day.

—–

Mohak Chaudhary

08.03.2017