gypsy in the rain


she is rising…
April 26, 2010, 10:50 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

As I say, I don’t care…
I collapse with blank senses…
No one is around to hold me…
They are there to watch me mutely…..

and then someone says… “ohhh there she is!!!
rising from the ashes…”

I don’t realize if I am falling down…
or my pain is growing high…
I am sure my senses have stopped sensing…
why everyone thinks I am doing fine..?
does it look like I am smiling…?
or do I look like a joker with a mask…?
I can see from inside… rims of my eyes are wet…

and then someone says… “ohhh, there she is!!!
rising from the ashes”…
I see people staring at me…
my vision is blurred….
I try to clear my sight… and it fades more…
am I already dead? Because I’ve now ceased to feel…
don’t feel anything inside me…
people staring at me still… aren’t they???
I must be shining like fire…
their faces look ablaze…
just as I said I did not want to quit…
the play had stopped…
was it someone else controlling me…?
Because everything I see looks like an illusion now…

As I had said, I don’t care…
I had collapsed with blank senses…
I remember…
then… someone said… with a shining face….
ohhhh, there she is!!! Rising from the ashes…”

I must be dead in past… to be alive again…


हरवलेले क्षण …
April 26, 2010, 4:17 pm
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I accidently came across a notebook few days back. Not my notebook, my friend’s. Well, I was very bad in my college days… never cared about notes, notebooks, lectures…. so when I used to forget to carry a subject’s notebook… my friend Anu, used to offer me her noteboook…
And I used to write in that book… used to make notes… ok, used to pretend would be the right word….
What I wrote in there, was something stupid, something silly… found it recently and it made me smile…
few poems in marathi…. I just dont believe, those are my words…
but handwriting says so…

पहिले प्रेम
खुप इच्छा आहे माझी बेधुंद होवून जगायची
खुप इच्छा आहे माझी, बेफाम होवून धावयाची
पण जेव्हा तुझा चेहरा समोर येतो, कल्पना येते वास्तवाची
सतत जाणवते माझ्या मागे, धाव तुझ्या डोळ्यांची
कधी हीच नजर भासे एक अपरिचिताची
एकदाच सांग मला गोष्ट तुझ्या मनाची
आहे न मीच रानी, तुझ्या पहिल्या प्रेमाची…?

प्रेम
कालाजाचे शब्द माझ्या भेट देऊ मी कोणाला….?
छोटेसे मन माझे, ठेवू मी त्यात कोणाला…?
डोळ्यांत भरून येणारे अश्रु दाखवू मी कोणाला….?
माझ्या आयुष्याचा एकेक क्षण… वाहू मी कोणाला…?
फसव्या या दुनियेत, विश्वासात घेवु कोणाला….?
जीवनाच्या या प्रवासात, सोबत घेवु कोणाला…..?
जन्म तुझ्यासाठीच माझा, वाटते कधी मनाला…
तुला माझ्या भावना कधी मात्र समजल्या का….?
कधी माझ्या कविता तुला उमजल्या का…?
नुसते यमक जुलाले म्हणजे कविता बनत नसते…
कविता वाचायला मनाची नजर लागते…
कधी तरी… वाचून बाघ माझ्या डोळ्यानी….
समजेल कहानी तुला माझ्या प्रेमाची….
चंचल तुझ्या मनाचा थांगपत्ता लागत नाही
कधी वाटते… तूझे माझ्यावर प्रेमच नाही….

एकटी
मी एकटी कुठे आहे…..
माझ्या सोबत…
माझ्या कल्पना…
माझ्या कविता…
माझे अश्रु….
माझ्या व्यथा…
या सर्वांचे अस्तित्व तुला जाणवत नसेल तर….
होय, मी एकटीच आहे….
कोणी नसताना….
माझ्यासोबत….
त्यांचे अस्तित्व मला पुरेसे आहे…
निदान त्या तरी मला….
एक व्यक्ति म्हणून मला फुलवतात….हसवतात
नेहमी माझ्या सोबत असतात…



Evenings…
April 1, 2010, 10:55 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

on my life track…,
I step few years back…
and I see something in my eyes…

a girl and her evenings…
not grown up but still rising…
turning into night to shine in the skies…

she runs behind the fireflies,
and then to realize…
she smiles the same way they do… 🙂

a well on the other side of fence,
she stares at it so intense…
thinking that it’s much deeper and scary too…

slowly as evening exits,
on the terrace, she sits…
to catch the breeze in her hair…

a big rubber tree
on her right she sees…
is singing a melody with the air…

a sugarcane farm…
adds a little charm..
to the milky night of her own…

and then one by one
net of the stars was spun…
but brighter were her eyes that shone…

she looks at the moon and thinks…
smiles and then she winks… 😉
for those little secrets she just told…

goes back to her home of glass…
dreams, waiting to pass..
through her heart to eyes, open to another world

(This poem is written in the memory of my vacation stays in “Thana Kushnoor, Bidar. When I passed my 9th, my father got transferred there. A wonderful place with a big jungle kinda garden, a farm on backdrop, open terrace and big trees, our home with french windows standing alone in the jungle… I regret, I could not stay there as my brother did)