DISINCLINED DRAG

This existence sometimes feels cancerous

painfully extant and gradually spiflicating.

 

That sting of unfulfilled desires, unrealized dreams,

hurts deep inside the skin, somewhere close to the heart.

 

There weren’t demands too many, self-fulfillment would’ve sufficed,

but here I am leading a life- mundane, wounded, chopped, sliced.

 

The fear, anxiety, introversion-were they inherent or did they creep in?

countering them in due time could’ve saved me from dismay, etched deep within.

 

Being good, quiet or trying to be so, pays often and that too heavily,

the ruthlessness of this world shows you your place steadily.

 

From outside it looks like an impeccable life to them,

but they never get an idea of the excruciating heartache and phlegm.

 

No one to blame, no one to hold responsible,

it’s the very me- weak, abeyant and feeble.

 

A ‘Treasure’ that kept calling me with open arms a decade ago,

my inhibitions got it buried under layers of infrangible snow.

 

Though I pour my heart quite often by writing poems galore,

but the ship of the real ‘Poem’ sank before reaching the shore.

 

The Universe too pays you back for your sins, whips you for being timid and late,

as now, when I’m daring to like noise, it’s all silence making itself ‘Reverberate’.

 

What’s the alternative left now?, it’s too hazy to really see,

the feet of dashed hopes are crushing flowers of zeal and glee.

 

But this labyrinth of life never comes with a warning tag,

hope that I’ll traverse too, accompanying my disinclined drag.

 

-©Mohak Chaudhary

28.04.2017

A MOTHER’S HEART- PUMPING (BLOOD) LOVE

A MOTHER’S HEART- PUMPING BLOOD LOVE

May be it was known that there would be the existence of many an atheist, like me, in this world. So, for their rescue, came God in form of mothers. The work below gives a different perspective and tries to depict the pain and agony of a mother- neglected and left alone by her only son. The inspiration to write this came when I visited Vrindavan, a holy town in Uttar Pradesh few years back and saw the pitiable condition of hundreds of old neglected widows and mothers who could barely make their ends meet. I dedicate it to my Maa and all the loving mothers of the world.

 

All I do is just sit here- stunned, stupefied,

recollecting that horrible moment when I begged and cried.

–

He, whom I bore defeating the biggest pain of world,

left me here alone with a gift of abuses he hurled.

–

Hundreds alike me wander perplexed in streets of Vrindavan,

looked upon with pathos by many, remembered by none.

I cared for you, showered love my son, almost did my best,

but couldn’t find a corner in your house, to lie, to rest.

–

You told my presence was rankling your beaming life,

and I was an irking element for your kids and wife.

–

But I remember a small you rushing to me in your ‘Oohs and Aahs’,

how did you then brush aside from your life, your loving Maa?

–

I still don’t grieve over this unexpected disdain,

what’s unbearable is the unending wait and its pain.

–

Anticipating that someday a voice will reverberate,

“Let’s go Maa, this is not going to be your fate”.

–

Till then I’ll wait and never complain,

cherishing my tears, caressing my pain.

–

Because being a ‘Mother’ is being patient and affectionate,

and thus I’ll redress your vices but never reciprocate your hate.

 

©Mohak Chaudhary,2017

 

 

 

मशान

आज फिर बना गवाह उस बच्चे के आंसुओं का, दबा था जो इस दुःख के पहाड़ तले,

अंतिम सफ़र तय कर आयी अपनी माँ के, एक आख़िरी बार जब वो लगा गले |

 

दूजी ओर अधेड़ से एक बाप ने किया, नन्हें बालक की देह को अग्नि को अर्पण,

जीवन पर अकड़ने वाले हर शख्स को, मौत ने यूं ही दिखाया यह दर्पण |

 

धरी की धरी है रह जाती तैयारी आने वाले कल की,

ख़ुद को ख़ुदा मानने वाले, तुझे ख़बर ही कहाँ अगले पल की |

 

घंटों, पहरों, आंसू भिगाते हैं मेरे केश, चीखों से गूँज उठते हैं मेरे कान,

इस असहायता को सिमटाना ही, मेरे लिए है विधि का विधान |

 

देखता हूँ प्रतिदिन आते हुए, बेजान शरीर सजे हुए अर्थी पर,

आत्मा मुक्त, जिस्म भस्म, केवल कर्म रह जाता है धरती पर |

 

जीवित रहते जो न कर पाते अपनों की इज़्ज़त, न रखते ध्यान,

वो अब लाते चन्दन की लकड़ी, करने प्यार का झूठा बखान |

 

पर क्या कोई समझे मेरी भी विवश्ता?, मूक बना देखता रहता हूँ ये दृश्य,

लाशें, अग्नि, गंगाजल और राख ही हैं मेरा भूत, वर्तमान और भविष्य |

 

फिर भी नहीं करता शिकायत, समेट लेता हूँ सारे दुःख, उदासी और निराशा,

रखकर शोक का अम्बार सीने पर, दुखियों को बंधाता ढाढ़स, देता नई आशा |

 

होकर निर्जीव भी करता हूँ काम अपनी क्षमताओं से परे,

फिर भी न जाने क्यों ये इंसान मुझे हमेशा बदनाम हैं करे ?

 

चौंकिए मत, क्या आप भी समझ बैठे मुझे अपने सा एक इंसान ?

राख और ख़ाक का बन चुका पर्याय, अपनी पीड़ा व्यक्त करता मैं हूँ ‘मशान’ |

 

-मोहक चौधरी ‘सचिंत’

०९.०४.२०१७