मैं तसव्वुर भी जुदाई का भला कैसे करून?
मैंने किस्मत की लकीरों से चुराया है तुझे
How can I even imagine being separated from you?
Now that I have stolen you from the lines of fate.
~ Qateel Shifai (lines from ‘Zindagi Mein To Sabhi’ translated by Arun)
Author Archives: Arun
Never-ending
Strangely, the concept of true love has to be a never-ending journey… completeness would only end it.
Once 2 floating dots join to become one the next trajectory is monotonic and uninteresting. Imagine the dots trying to meet but deflecting as soon as they get near… 2 sine curves. That’s harmonic. Harmonics are naturally beautiful.
Soulmates
I hear the evening breeze
Murmuring through the trees
Whispering a story, perhaps…
Untold, unheard, from a time lapse.
Of two birds those flew together
Till one disappeared in a stormy night.
Devastated, another took to the pyre;
God, moved, offered eternal delight.
“Show my love once”, cried its soul
“I will give up heaven, burn in hell”.
The wind stops, an uneasy silence
And a bird gazing up at my terrace.
Infliction
Creating value is becoming the deceptively simple chess piece that can inflict the decisive damage when sacrificed.
Jobs
About work… be diligent, stay detached. Becoming a monolithic ATM is not the purpose of life.
Boots
Our little Messi’s first formal soccer boots. Oh, you’ve been my playmate for so many years!!! The colours do match your flamboyance. I remember in a 40-to-win match my score would never cross 10, thanks to your Maths skills.
Estranged
Every face I see turns into yours
Each voice I hear plays your melody
Baby now that your gone ‘n I’m alone
My poor soul knows not how to atone.
Forgotten
Maybe you’ve forgotten me
I would blame it on time
And an unknown address
If not for my arrogant silence.
A heart still beating for you,
Longing the pain dies too
Sweet memories to torment
A broken soul that long left.
Scratches
If you have a heart of gold everyone will scratch it till there’s nothing left to beat for.
The Attic
It was a comfortable world
The table in that small attic
The old fountain pen and pad
My happy world of limerick.
His war, somehow my crusade
So read the king’s summon
In the name of God I marched
Got a shield, a shiny weapon.
Those I slayed in the day, the dead
Returned at night in my nightmares
Did nothing, said nothing, just stared
Couldn’t sleep once in so many years.
I earned my freedom, end of my war
Took a final look around while falling
Peace at last! And I had to travel far
Back to my attic, it has been calling.
Nearly Poetry 