Posted in Letters on lease, love, Thoughts, Uncategorized, writing, poetry, prose, inadequacy,

Police station

Dear it-doesn’t-even-matter-who,

I want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hold your hand or talk or discuss things. I don’t want to ask or tell or plan or decide. I don’t want to hug you or kiss you. Hell, I don’t want to touch you. I just want to see you.

All I want is you somewhere around me. Not in front of me, not at all next to me. Just somewhere in my sight. Let there be people. They are anyway pointless. I don’t want total exclusive you. I don’t want you to know that I want to see you or you are being seen.

I just want you to carry on with whatever you can conjure- work, conversations(not with me), time pass, whatever, with one, ten or a crowd, but in that moment I just want to be around and be able to see you.  Not stare. Not gaze. Not at all check you out. Not follow. Just that if I move my eyes around, even if it takes some effort, I just want to be able to see you.

Everyone here, every now and then, looks like you. Where are you though? I won’t hold you or run to you . Somewhere amidst people (yeah the same pointless people), I’ll just see you and come back home.

You don’t know where the police station is, right?

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Posted in City, Mumbai, Crowd,, Letters on lease, love, poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized, writing, poetry, prose, inadequacy,

Address

Tum jaante ho,

Is waqt, is sheher ki roshni aur bheed me,

kho jaana,

kitna aasaan hai?

Aur wo bhi mere liye?

 

Mai kho hi rahi hu,

Har raat, har baar,

Har baat, har yaad.

Shaayad khud ko bhi.

 

Is kho jaane ke darr me,

Is ajnabipane me,

Mera pata banoge tum?

 

capture
Source: Pixabay

 

Featured picture credits: Puneet Panwar

Posted in love, poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized, writing, poetry, prose, inadequacy,, Young girls

Wo ladki… (February special)

Meri kahaanio me ek ladki rehti hai,

Haalaki zyaada kahaniaan nahi hain mere paas

Par jitni bhi hain, unme wo ladki zaroor rehti hai.

Jalti hu mai us se, thoda sa. Bahut saara.

Har wo cheez jo mujhe khud me chahiye, wo usme hai.

Usko maafi maangna aata hai, usko dil jeetna aata hai.

Usko pyaar karna aata hai.

Aur mujhe to aap jaante hi hain.

Capture
Source: Dumbo’s diary

Sabse buri baat pata hai kya hai?

Usko baate karna aata hai.

Kameeni har dafa sahi waqt par sahi shabd bolti hai,

Aur meri tarah gaaliaan bhi nahi deti.

Har baar shabd hote hain uske paas.

Aur mai? Mere paas sirf tark rehte hain. Kadwe, teekhe.

Ladti wo bhi hai, sehti wo bhi nahi,

par ada hai usme.

Aur mujhe to aap jaante hi hain.

Capturedf
Source: Maxpixel

Kheli mere saath hi, badi mere saath hi hui

Par pata nahi kaise wo itni bahaadur nikli

Ki apni galtio ko maan ke aaraam se theek kar leti hai

Aur mai zid se, sharm se aur fir glaani se hi nahi ubhar paati.

Sahi samay par khaati hai, mui exercise bhi karti hai.

Kilasti hu mai ye dekh ke ki usko apna bhi

Aur apno ka bhi

Khayal rakhna aata hai.

Uske pyaar me girna sabke liye itna aasaan hai.

Aur mujhe to aap jaante hi hain.

jb
Source: eWallpapers.eu

Ye jo ladki ha na

Ye ajeeb hi hai.

Jab rehna meri kahaanio me hi hai,

To meri dost hi bann jaati.

Par waha ye chook jaati hai

Laakh achha dil kyu na ho iska,

Ye bhi meri tarah, meri dost nahi bann sakti.

Aap kya kehte hain? Itna daag to chalta hai na?

Khair mujhe to aap aante hi hain.

 

 

 

Posted in Attitude, Letters on lease, love, poetry, Thoughts

Tonight,about light

About lies you told and heard
About right decisions and wrong times,

About outright NOs and painful YESs

About stolen pens and looted memories

About chits in the class and silence in the walks,

About newspapers and red inks.

Tonight, it’s about wars. And cries.

Source : MSNBC.com

About preaching mom not to talk like that,

About feeling guilty for talking like that,

About stained pants and washed agony,

About withered walls and bright pictures.

About compass boxes and kitchen sets

And monsters in clouds, and a white dress.

Tonight, it’s about yesterday. And beyond.

Source : Pinterest

About teary blurs and clear paths,

About stubborn keyboards and blocked contacts,

About rains and parched hearts

About drafts in the mail and updated Instagram.

And earrings, and short hair and long kurtis

About everything out of league.

Tonight, it’s about me. And stars.

Source of featured image : Pinterest

Posted in Attitude, Idealism, Letters on lease, love, Thoughts

Madam Attitude

And why are you always so cynical and headstrong and snobbish about almost everything?”

Because I am a bigtime idealist. I am auto-tuned to ideas of perfection. By that I don’t mean I am prim and proper and excel at everything. What I do, however, is to ensure 100% efforts. Whether in a project or a friendship or any relation whether it is with your mother or father or even the guy sitting next to you. I am a person of words who’d take them as they are and hence loud tones and rude replies irk me to levels much much more than they do to other people. I have this seemingly perfect idea of conversations where we respect others’ words and we love like how love should be. Now people call me judgemental but here’s the thing. Every small gesture is part of the bigger picture for me. So at every sentence and every act, I am picturizing the rationale behind that.  And the deductions are mostly saddening”


Not the most positive or comprehensible thing to hear, but don’t you think this attitude would make you a rather unhappy person?

Oh of course. By all means, I am unhappy. And even there I try to find the larger picture. Like whether it is the color of my walls or arrangement of the furniture or the series I am watching or the people I’m avoiding or things I’m thinking that are making me unhappy. But then, I realize that I fight, argue at petty things and get irked by people only because I know the possibilities of better situations. So I kind of rebel for love. I create havoc, for peace. That’s weird. Even I don’t get it.”



Well,do you even have friends?”

Friends of all kinds. But if your context of asking this was based on the insane replies above, then I would say, I have ONE friend. Who is my world. Not because I share all this with him,but because I don’t feel any of this with him. To him, I am the little sister whom he keeps scolding for not taking enough care of herself only by looking at my skin. To me, he is the brother with whom, I know I have nothing to worry about. We rarely meet. But when we do, he ensures it’s a Thursday so he can force me into eating Chicken. And in that moment, I am the most pampered kid ever. I think of getting him gifts because he deserves everything in the world. But then, I have not found anything precious enough. For him,watching me eat to my heart’s content is enough. I am already feeling happy.”


“You know not many people can handle you,right?”

“I know. I don’t have many people. I manage being a wreck.”

Posted in love, poetry

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho

Mujhe yaad hai ki 

baarish ko mai apna kehti thi

aur tumhe ye naadaani lagti thi,

Par meri khaatir tum bhi boondo me

ek majboor sukoon dhundh lete the.

Aaj shaam bhi wahi hai, barasti hui, kaali si, majboor si.

Par ab bheegne ka mann nahi hai,

Aur is sabab ki wajah kehne ko na kaho

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

Shaam wala rang hai, 
Aasmaa malang hai,

wahi kitaab sang hai

jo barso se badrang hai.

Kitne panno me apni hi hasi hai

Saawan ki baate wahi par basi hai.

Abb ki khaamoshi todne ko na kaho

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

PC : Naushad Ahmed Khan

Chai ki pyaali hai

cheeni aaj sawaali hai

ki mujhse kyu roothi ho

jo bilkul nahi daali hai.

Abb mithaas ki bass yaade pasand hain.

Par cheeni ki ye baate pasand hain.

In baato me arth daalne ko na kaho,

Mujhe rukne ko na kaho.

Last week a friend asked me if I had written something new and I was a little perplexed because I had kind of disowned writing poems for reasons I fail to figure out. She made me promise that I would write one super soon and here it is. Only after I finished writing this , did I realize that this makes me feel good. Of course, on a rainy day ( a rainy week in fact), I am most earnest about promises. 

Happy rains,

Anaari.