Poetry

बॉसा

नशा हैं ये,
अलग और पूरा,
आंखों की पुतलियों
में जैसे सब सितारें
चमचमा जाते हो।
और वो मध्धम सा सुर,
धड़कनों को महसूस होता है।
जिस्म का हर कण
दो से एक स्वर में समा जाता है।
सांसें हम तुम की
साथ हर लह पर मचलती हो।
ऐसा होता है बॉसा,
जिससे तुम चाहते हो।

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Standard
Fictions

Kiss

“I am coming in a minute.” He went to pick call, leaving her with a pint of beer.

A few minutes later, he couldn’t find her at the table. He looked around, and found her in smoking room.

She was lighting her cigarette, when he entered. It was dull and dark room. Pint in his hand, cigarette on her lips, he grabbed her from waist. He didn’t say a word, but she heard him. His eyes talked everything. Cupped her face in his hands, her breath kissed his breath. One, two and few pack of kisses, they aligned in one breathe.

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Poetry

सुनने वाला कौन हैं यहाँ

कभी लगता हैं
तुम्हें अभी बहुत कुछ कहना हैं,
लेकिन वो सुनने वाला अब यहाँ हैं नहीं।

और अजीब हैं ये,
बातें भी उसके इर्द-गिर्द की हैं,पर
वो सुनने वाला अब यहाँ हैं नहीं।

हाँ, मैं तुम्हारे जाने के बाद,
हर्फ़-दर-हर्फ़ जज़्बात का मोहताज़ हो गया हूँ,
लेकिन तुम सुनने वाली यहाँ हो नहीं।

Standard
Fictions

Phone Call

“Tring Tring…” This was 9th time Rachit called her.

She told him that he could contact her anytime. Furiously, he didn’t bother to call her again.

“Silent Cardiac Arrest” he read on her friend’s facebook status.

Seven days later, he still thought she would pick up his call, and surprise him.

Standard
Poetry

Sunkissed

Ohh, my my my,
Look at her,
Kissed all the way,
Like bright and right.

Absorbing everything,
That window could deliver,
Like that Sunkissed,
All right and bright.

Let’s just keep it,
The way it is here.
She being a face,
I being her kiss she awaits.

Standard
Poetry

Always

How drunk this night could be?
Counting stars and I
Always end up counting You.

How old these trees could be?
Shedding leaves and I
Always end up holding You.

How broke this road could be?
Walking straight and I
Always end up hugging You.

Is it too early to start fresh?
Because in dark I
Always end up Loving You.

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Fictions

Reader

37aa64015f6e7336d6c50d80d0b1c368“Do you miss me?”

“Don’t you read my poetry?”

“I lost my reader.”

It took two years for Rachit and Geet to realize the gravity. The gravity of divorce they were calculating. It was 143rd page, when she found her reference.

“With black hair with few golden strands, pierced ears at four different places, reddish and dimpled cheeks, Geet was learning to drive.” She read.

“Is that all you noticed?” She asked him.

“Is that all you read?”

Another book was about to finish, when Rachit wrote another story around her.

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