थोड़ी सी उदासी है

कितना ख़ामोश समां है
थोड़ा सा अंधेरा है
मैं हुं और आसमां है
और थोड़ी सी उदासी है

जो मिल सका मिला है
किसी से न कुछ गिला है
ये मैं हुं वो काफिला है
और थोड़ी सी उदासी है

कुछ सुक़ून मिला है लिख के
कलम के हाथ बिक के
कुछ और देखुं लिख के
क्योंकि थोड़ी सी उदासी है

ज़िद पूरी कर ली सारी
भूली सभी लाचारी
मंज़िल को पा लिया है
पर थोड़ी सी उदासी है

ऐसा ना हो कभी के
तोडू़ं मैं दिल सभी के
तूफान बन ना जाये
जो थोड़ी सी उदासी है

सब ख़त्म कर मैं दूँगा
शायद ख़ुश मैं तब रहूँगा
क्या चाहती है ये जो
थोड़ी सी उदासी है

इस ख़ामोश से समां में
अंधेरे के रास्ते में
मुझे आप कैसे दिख गये
मुझे आप कैसे मिल गये
क्या मेरी तरह भी आपको
थोड़ी सी उदासी है

Advertisements

Ghazal #5


ऐसा है हाल ए दिल के अब रहा नहीं जाता
ज़ब्र ए ज़ब्त तो देखो कि कहा नहीं जाता

और कितनी सांसों की गुंज़ाइश है मुझमें
या ख़ुदा ये दर्द अब सहा नहीं जाता

लाओ भले लहर या फिर सैलाब ले आओ
बहा नहीं जाता तो फिर बहा नही जाता

दूसरी मोहब्बत में होता ही यही है
गले लगाया जाता है चाहा नहीं जाता


ज़ब्र ए ज़ब्त = compulsion of self-control

सैलाब = flood

Ghazal #4


आँसू बहुत हैं तो ये काम कर ही जायेंगे
सहरा तेरे सराबों को हम भर ही जायेंगे
AaNsun bht hai so ye kaam kr hi jaeNge
Sahra tere sairaaboN ko ham bhar hi jaeNge

शोर में तो ख़ैर कब लगता था दिल मेरा
पर ऐसी ख़ामोशी में तो हम मर ही जायेंगे
Shor mai to khair kab lgta tha dil mera
Par esi khamoshi mai to ham mar hi jaeNge

कहना आसमाँ से के वो दर खुला रखे
दश्त से निकलेंगे तो फिर घर ही जायेंगे
Kehna aasmaN se ke wo dar khula rkhe
Dasht se niklege to phr ghar hi jaeNge

और हम से ले भी क्या सकती थी ये दुनिया
हम से दीवनों के तो बस सर ही जायेंगे
Aur ham se le bhi kya skti thi ye duniya
Ham se deewanon k to bas sar hi jaeNge

ऐसे अनासिर से बना है मेरा बदन
जितना भी संभालो मगर बिख़र ही जायेंगे
Na jane kese anasir se bana hai mera badan
Jitna bhi sambhalo magar bikhar hi jaeNge


Sahara= desert

Sarabon = Mirages

Dar= door

Dasht= desert

Anasir= particles

YOUR ‘DIARY’! – by Kavita Sharma (Guest Post)

diary copy

Don’t cry like this every night.

It hurts.

Your tears falling on me makes me cry too.

I love your smile.

My pages smiles whenever they see your 3 inch smile.

Your shining eyes add more colors on me.

Your touch, your kiss, your hug, gives me Goosebumps.

Am I really special to you?

Might be a ‘Yes’.

That’s why you spend your sleepless nights with me.

I was blank.

But you gave me colors, poured all your emotions.

I know, I am the one with whom you share everything.

You share your deepest secrets with me.

Am I your best friend or a soul mate or just a diary for you?

The ink of your pen soothes my pages.

My pages were mortal.

But you made them immortal with each passing night.

You made me fall for you.

I am not just a diary; I am a part of your life.

The part which is hidden from this outer world.

We spent every night with each other.

And we will continue this every night.

I’ll always be there as a best friend.

As a lover.

As a sister.

As a brother.

And as a diary for you.

Your ‘diary’ promise.

A RADIO… BY SANDEEP SHARMA – SHORT STORY

APP_08132013MM_0024 copy

His eyes were glued to that clock hanging on the opposite wall. ‘Ten minutes remaining’, he thought. He could hear three different voices pretty clearly at that moment; the screeching voice of the rocking chair on which he was resting, the slow momentary revolving of the ceiling fan that produces only an illusion of air being thrown and the tick-tock of the wall clock.

‘Five more minutes’. He coughed, adjusted his spectacles and slowly tried to stand on his feet. His 68 years old body ached on holding his 42 kg of weight. Somehow, he had dealt with the pain and went straight in the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He gulped down in a hurry with shaking hands. He again focused his stare on the wall clock.

‘2 more minutes.’ A slight smile appeared on his lips. Slowly he reached the wardrobe, opened it and pulled out that old Radio; the radio which was his only companion in that empty ‘lifeless’ house.

He switched on the radio, adjusted the frequency and waited for her on the rocking chair.

“Good Evening Agra…… Today we will….” She spoke through the radio. Instantly he closed his eyes to enjoy those 4 hours of her voice. Now for him, all other voices had no meaning. The only happiness, the only light in the dark cave, the only string of attachment left for him to live was that girl’s voice on his old radio.

Those 4 hours were everything for him. That voice on the radio was like a time portal for him. His door to escape from the reality and reliving those days, days which he spent with her, days he would cherish forever.

“And now the final song of the night is…..” 4 hours had passed and the moment had arrived. “So good night Agra, we’ll meet up again……” He left his rocking chair, forwarded towards the radio and put his hand over the top of it, as if giving his blessings to someone and said, “Good night Babu. Stay blessed.” He switched off the radio, placed it in the wardrobe again and headed towards the bed.

The life was never the same for him; it never does for anyone. He had a family; a beautiful wife, an obedient son and homely daughter in law. But the one with whom he had the best relationship was Pooja, his grand-daughter.

*****

“Dada, please make my father stop. I don’t want to leave you.” Pooja pleaded in front of him. His son had got a promotion in his job and with that promotion came a posting too. It was difficult for him too to break the 15 year old bond which he had with Pooja but there was no other option as well.

“Arre Babu, Delhi is not that far from here. Just 5 hours journey. I’ll be visiting my Babu in every few weeks. I’ll also……….” Pooja was furious then. She never expected her Dada to behave like that. She wanted her Dada to at least try.

“Leave it Dada. Good Night.” Pooja said. If this would be a normal day, she would have waited for her Dada’s blessing but that day wasn’t a normal one. She left but he did raise his right hand and blessed her, “Good Night Babu. Stay Blessed.”

Next day, three of them left leaving him and his wife alone in the home of five. They left in a car but never reached Delhi, their destination. The old man was expecting a phone call from his son informing about their safe arrivals but nothing came. The only thing which came was the news that the car faced an accident on the highway and all the occupants died on the spot. That news shook the old man but attacked his wife’s heart. She died the next day because of heart attack.

Within two days, his family shattered all together. He could see nothing; it was as if walking through the dark cave. The only thing he could see was the ceiling fan and a saree of his wife. He was ready to leave the world of millions because he could not bear the pain of living alone.

He was ready for suicide but god had some other will. No one knows how that old Radio started to speak. It was heavenly broadcast, may be just for him because dead people never speaks on public broadcast and that too on Radio. He was amazed to hear Pooja’s voice on that Radio.

Finally he could see a ray of hope to live in the dark cave of his own existence.

*****

2 more minutes.’ He read the wall clock. His body was aching a lot, more than usual. He coughed and continued coughing till his own breath lost control over its functioning. Slowly, keeping the balance on both the legs he moved towards the wardrobe and grabbed the radio. Switched on, adjusted the frequency and waited for Pooja’s voice. He coughed again, vigorously this time. Some blood appeared on his hand which was on his mouth.

“Good Evening Agra…..” The radio turned alive. “Today we’ll be doing something crazy; the thing which we haven’t done before. We’ll be calling some random telephone numbers from here and will have some fun. So are you ready…..” She kept on talking. He was enjoying the show but was also losing his control over his own breathing too. Something was wrong. He could feel coldness, numbness and blankness. A sudden fear getting replaced with sudden calmness.

He fell off the chair. Finally, he knew what was happening. He was ready for it; ready to surrender his life in the hands of death. He closed his eyes and waiting to see the ultimate brightness. But on that particular moment his phone started to ring. A last wish emerged in the dying heart. He could hear the radio’s voice; someone’s phone was ringing there too. Pooja called me?

The calmness disappeared and fear took over. ‘I want to attend this call’. He pushed himself up and while panting and coughing covered his final steps and reached the phone. He picked the receiver and fell down on the ground.

“Dada….” Pooja said. He smiled, few tears rolled down his eyes, “Good Night Dada. We miss you here.”

“Good Night Babu. Stay Blessed.” He said and with a smile on his face, left his body.

The voice over the radio continued talking to some other random guy.

******

THIS STORY IS A PART OF COMPETITION ‘TAB WAR’ ORGANISED BY THE AUTHOR’s BLOG. THE CORE MEMBERS OF THE AUTHOR’s BLOG ARE COMPETING AGAINST EACH OTHER THROUGH THEIR STORIES. A STORY WILL BE PUBLISHED EACH DAY BY ONE CORE MEMBER. THERE ARE THREE COMPETITORS HENCE THERE WILL BE SIX STORIES IN ONE WEEK.

READERS ARE REQUESTED TO REVIEW THIS STORY AND RATE IT OUT OF FIVE. READERS COMMENTING ON ALL SIX STORIES WILL BE AWARDED BY ASSURED GIFTS. THE RESULT WILL BE DECLARED AFTER THE COMPETITION IS OVER.

THANK YOU! HAPPY READING.

TAB War

    

 

AUTHOR INTERVIEW – VIKAS SINGAL

384126_169742306510975_1515725850_n copy

Hello guys.
We are back again with an author who makes his debut in writing field with an innovative thought. Let’s hear it our straight from the horse’s mouth, here’s the chat we had with Vikas Singal.

Let’s start with a formal introduction. Tell us something about your daily schedule and the things which define you and your lifestyle.
Well. I work for Ribbun Software Pvt Ltd as Co-Founder Director. It’s a software venture with my friend Mohit. I normally work till late in the night, so my day starts late at around 9 in the morning. Work is my worship, Writing is my passion.
‘AND… THEY FELL IN LOVE’, tell us something about it.
These short stories are bases on true incidents which happened to me or people nearby me. One day I wrote them in form of stories and that’s how it began.
Why an e-book? According to your experience, how’s the market?
To be honest, I wanted the paper version of the same but the final cost came too high. I did not want my readers to spend 125/- for a 26 page book. So E-Book was a much better and cheaper option.
Your book comprises of three short stories where strangers meet and fell in love. Do you truly believe in it? Have you had a similar ‘real’ story?
Yes I do believe in it. I believe in it that’s why I can write it. Yes, one of the story is quite near to my own life experience.
‘Writing’, what is the importance of this word in your life?
It’s as important to my life as water. The more I drink it, I feel healthy.
How’s the response from the readers and what were your expectations?
So far so good. I did not expect a lot from it. I just wanted to reach the right audience. Still a long way to go!
Are you currently working on a new book? Would you like to share something about that?
Yes, I am working on two projects. One is a collection of short stories and the other one would be my first full length novel. Both are based on relationships.

According to you, what’s the most difficult part of writing?
Editing.

Do you read? Who’s your favorite author? And your favorite book?
Yes. I read a lot. “Five point somebody” would remain my best book forever. It was the fiction I ever read. Off course, Chetan Bhagat is my favorite author.

What is your advice for young and budding writers?
Write more. Have faith in yourself. Be yourself. Write the way you want to write.

Your view about us, i.e., “The Author’s Blog”.
Its exceptional. I have been a reader of it from quite a long time now. You guys are doing such a fabulous job.

*****

So that’s it for now. We will be back soon.

*****

To buy the book follow this link.

To read our review on the book, follow this link.