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A girl.The girl | English Poetry
A girl.The girl | English Poetry
Winds changed their direction,
The summer passed,
The return was different
What left at first, didn’t last.
The arrival was not the same, The departure was made to blame,
The chaos in her subsided the peace,
She smiled but was not at her ease.
The child in her had died,
It was just the woman, who survived.
At a distance she stood,
Looked like the woman, I didn’t understood.
The child had majestic eyes,
They laughed and cried at the same time,
The woman had a thoughtful view,
Practical and logically shrewd,
The child was entangled in the struggle of hope,
Jostling in and out, stretching the threads of rope,
The woman now had embraced her soul,
Not much to shudder, not much to howl
The child then had a life,
Whereas the woman just lives,
Tired of searching, her inner peace
As the distance closed,,
Her aura on my thoughts, bestowed,
The smile was still at its peak,
The charming eyes still had a lot to speak,
Not the woman, she was still the child,
Disguised for others, known to the ones nearby,
It was a mistake, I was wrong,
Though it was an illusion, but that of my own,
Somewhere I thought,
I met a girl whom I thought I lost to the world unknown,
But she was still the girl, the girl very much known,
I never met the woman, it was the same child,
Life played the magic, the eyes got deceived by…….
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E Pyaar | Hindi Poetry
E Pyaar | Hindi Poetry
And what if Love was not a feeling but a human !!!!!
Poem : E Pyaar!! gives a different treatment to the feeling called love.
E Pyaar !!
Mein Tujhme Khoya Hun,
Tu Mujhme Khoya Hai,
Mein Jaaga Raaton Ko Tujhme,
Aur Tu Mujhme Soya Hai,
Tu Raha Bechain Mere Nain Mein,
Mein Madh-hosh Tujhme Raha Hun,
E Pyaar !!
Tu Pyaar Karke Khoob Hasa,
Aur Mein Tujhme Khoob Roya Hu.
Kyu Na Ab Is Pyaar Ke Dard Ko Bhula Dein
Zindagi Jeene Ki Khud Ko Ek Nayi Wajah Dein,
Tu Mujhse Dur Hoja, Mein Tujhse Dur Rahun,
Tu Mujhse Maghroor Hoja, Mein Tujhse Maghroor Rahun,
Na Tu Mujhme Basne Ki Dua Kare,
Na Mein Tujhe Paane Ki Fariyaad Karun,
Na Tu Mujhe Sehla Ke Pass Bulaye,
Na mein Tere Pass Ane Ke Jasbaat Dharun,
Na Hi Kare Tu Mujhe Ashq Bahaane Pe Majboor,
Aur Na Hi Mere Tere Ashqon ka Gunhegaar Banu.
Aa Kare Khatam Is Sitam Ko,
Pyaar Mein Teri Rooh Se Bhi Door Ho Jaun,
Tu Apni Aazadi Mein Khushi Mana,
Aur Mein Apni Aazadi Mein Khush Ho Jaun.
E Pyaar | Hindi Poetry
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Childhood | English Poetry
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An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
Backdrop..
There is a nameplate hanging outside my home which has my parents’ name on it. This place is safe, surrounded by love and trust and there is a feeling of contentment. It has an aura that drives away fear, divine power in it. It entrusts me with the confidence that if everything in this world were to go wrong, this place would never let anything happen to me. My family, these are the people who knowingly or unknowingly have shaped who I am. They have totally dedicated their lives to my upbringing and betterment. We might call it ‘responsibility’ that every parent carries but that too comes out of concern, and such concern comes out of love.
As I grew up, I began to connect with others. I moved out, met new people, understood new things and experienced a different world. Once we start thinking for ourselves, things can’t remain the same; they have to change. I too started realizing what is right and useful for me. My family also supported my views and helped me make decisions that would boost my future. With a practical approach in mind, I moved out to climb the ladders of success in life.
I left this safe and secure dream world, my world, and entered into a world which I never imagined would be so big and so different from mine. From the safe confines of my private walls, I moved to this labyrinth where it’s easy to get lost. I moved to a different state and a brand new educational experience. This world was filled with new experiences, and I faced new circumstances every day; some even challenging. I made many new connections; a plethora of information blew in my face like a strong wind.
New Beginnings
The beginnings are always difficult as I missed everyone back home. It took some getting used to, for me to moved ahead. My best friends called me every day, and I called them back too. My parents called me every evening and would emotional. They’d ask even the minute details of how I spent the day and I obliged them with it. I’d asked them about life at their end, and they talked about things familiar to me, making me feel at home even in this strange new place. I took to the social media more than before to keep in touch with my kin and friends.
Alas! The constant nature of change is what tends to work against these connections. Change tends to break them, but this is involuntary. When one has taken the effort of coming out of the comfort zone, one tends to focus more on this effort, and this may us lead to a disconnect. We get lost in understanding and deciphering this novelty of a world that we’ve entered. The phone calls we made every day are now less in frequency. And this happens from both ends; mine and theirs.
We expect that they will contact us while people back home expect me to make the effort, but we both lose it. My father calls and asks “why don’t you call nowadays?” And I don’t have an answer to it. Even my friends and loved one’s message saying “Dude! You have changed a lot. You don’t even text or reply on time”, and again I don’t have an answer to it. When this happens, one tends to become an outsider.
But the truth is “I am not an outsider”.
It is not that I want to behave the way I behave, it is the environment and the thoughts that separate me from what I was and what I am about to become. It is not always the work or hectic schedule of mine that keeps me away from talking to my family and old friends. In a way, this is newfound freedom and I am busy utilizing it. I prioritize indulging into this freedom more than the constant need to keep in touch. The occasional drink, the rare indulgence in smoke, and of course there is the workload. Why shouldn’t I explore this freedom? I do remember them, but by the time I want to call them, it’s too late in the night and then it’s not an appropriate time, and people think I have changed.
But I have not. I have only taken charge of my life. After living in security for so long, I have come out and taken the charge of securing myself. I am dependent on “ME”. My mother’s not here to ask me what to have for dinner, nor is my father here to ask me what to bring while returning home and nor do I have any siblings here who will help me with my work. I am an individual who has come to create his own identity. I have an agenda here; this keeps me occupied. I may forget about them now and then, but do miss them.
I am still the same insider.
At times, I do miss them and get frustrated being alone but these feelings rise and die within the confines of my new, temporary accommodation. Nostalgia keeps me from even listening to their voices sometimes. This dependency on my parents who raised me, the friends who were always there, that girl who always spoke to me for hours but it seemed like minutes; this dependency is what I’m trying to end. Of course, I am desperate to see them again, be home for the festivals and during the holidays.
Who doesn’t?
But you change. You get used to living alone to the point that you actually prefer it. I prefer the solitude the crown has to offer. No one comes to talk to you if you’re not “alone”. I have tried to purge emotions so that it gets easier for me. And then I asked myself a question. Who am I without my parents, friends and that one girl? I got busier trying to find my identity, and it all soon became easy and found myself. I had to dissociate first to find myself and in this process, I became an outsider. Well, better the real me outside than this shadow of a person I was inside.
The truth is that in this self-discovery. I have realized that I just have different sides to the same person who lived in that place with his parents’ name plates on it.
@ramta jogi
Published in Youth ki awaaz
An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
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Bachpan | Hindi Poetry
Bachpan | Hindi Poetry
Vo sham ko ghar lautna, ek sukoon tha,
Ghar pauchkar khelne jana, ek junoon tha
Piche se maa nashta khilane ko daant rehti,
Hum to bagiche ki aur bhaagte rehte ,
Pure din ki thaakan gayaab si hojati thi,
Sari takleefiyen us khel mein kho jati thi,
Thake hare ate ghar jab,
Garam pani aur tauliya taiyaar milta tha,
Nahate hi, maa ka pyaar khaane mein beshumaar milta tha,
Fir TV ke saath thoodi aankh micholi hoti thi,
Papa ke ghar ate hi, apne kamre ki taraf humari dooli nikalti thi,
Kuch pal apni kitaabon ko jab dete, aankh jhapak si jaati thi,
Bin kuch soche , bin kuch samje, Bin kuch jaane, bin kuch mane,
Apne aap hi ek sukoon ki neend aajati thi
Ek sapne ki tarah , har pal sufiyana tha,
Kuch aisa hi mere bachpan ka zamana tha,
Aaj sab sukoon se dur hue bethe hai,
Apni aadaton me mashghool hue bethe hai,
Bhatak te hai tanhaah khudse,
Neend ko taraste, majboor hue bethe hai,
Yaad hai sabko vo khel kud, vo school vo tiffin,
Vo kal ke pal jo the koi soch koi samaj ke bin,
Jab jaante nahi the duniya ki samaj,
So sara samaaj hi apna tha,
Samaj ke ane se samaaj se hi dur hone lage,
Sab kaam us umr me bhi khatm hua karte the, bin jyada soche,
Jabse sochne lage, kaam adhure chutne lage,
Bachpan chood , bade hone ki zid thame the,
Bade hote hi bachpaan ye yaadon mein khone lage,
Zindagi mein aaj bade hote hote, bachpaan bhi kho bethe hai,
Par na jane kyu fir is aaj ke dar se,
khud ko us bachpane se dur kiye bethe hai?
@ramta jogi
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Childhood | English Poetry
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The Conclusion | Short story
The Conclusion | Short story
The short story “The Conclusion” presents an interpretation of ending with a short story
The half-smoked roll of joint was lying burning in the ashtray. The room was filled with smoke. Scattered on the computer table were all those things which he needed to survive for that night. Quite carefully he picked up his headphones from that mess and plugged them into his computer. It was time he drowned himself in the music of Pink Floyd. A few novels occupied some space on the other side, some read and some scheduled to be read as per convenience. An empty wafer packet flew from one corner of the room to the other. A pack of cards found itself in the same place where his neighbour had put in a couple of days back. He connected his phone to the charger and plugged it into the furthest charging slot, not because it required charging, but because he wanted some peace.
The clock struck 11 pm. He restarted his computer which got hang due to multiple opened windows. Its speed, or rather the lack of it, sucked. All his pleas to his dad for a new laptop went in vain but his father kept on shooing him away saying it was a useless expense.
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The last episode of his story series was due to be released tonight. This story series was something he was obsessed for, since months. He wrote 5 episodes of the series and released one every week. He was able to garner rave reviews for the same. The number of followers on social networking sites rose many folds. It was time for the last episode of it. This series which was his only interest for the past 3 months, his biggest dream and his shot to fame had reached a conclusive stage. The penultimate episode had set the benchmark to a new level altogether; hence, an unforgettable ending was expected from him. He had received many emails from his followers praising his work and telling him how eagerly they were waiting for the last episode. Tonight was the decisive night.
He sat there, staring at the blank Word sheet on the screen. The entire week he had been trying really hard to put words to his thoughts, but the harsh truth was that he didn’t have any thought in his mind. He couldn’t think of a suitable end! This wasn’t a very comfortable situation for him. He loved writing. In fact, a pen and an empty notebook were his best friends. They stayed with him even during the worst of times. He wasn’t accustomed to this blankness; thought hard and suddenly realized that it had nothing to do with his writing skills or abilities, it was the problem he had with endings!
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He had some serious issues with endings. Be it his stories or his personal life, it was always the end that bothered him the most. Good or bad wasn’t the concern, the concern was the end. He loved his girlfriend Sameera and she loved him as well. But she boarded a flight to a different city, which distanced him with her lately ended his relationship abruptly. The day his parents split ended the image of a happy family, which every person has in mind. Nothing in his life ended the way he wanted, so he began to fear the end! It was an irony that he was doing the thing which he was most passionate for, but he had to face his most dreaded situation at the same time!
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He wasn’t simply writing a random story, instead, he was living it! The story was a depiction of the life he never had! How could someone end the life he always dreams of living? He was enjoying every bit of it. Every character in the story had the nature of the people he always wanted to be with. The circumstances, the peaks, the troughs and the emotions in it were all things he wanted to experience. This story was a complete contrast to his real life. Ending this story would mean that he will have to search for a new life, a new identity for himself from the next moment itself!
He wasn’t a very social kind of a person and found it difficult to interact with people. The characters were all he had and every character was what he wanted to be. He was in the world of his own and that world was supposed to end that night with that conclusive chapter. He knew that he couldn’t continue the story forever. It had lived its life, and it was time to end it.
But the characters were the ones he was concerned for. He wanted those characters to be etched in the minds of the readers and wanted the characters to live their life. He wanted the audience to miss them for long. A conclusion would fade the memories of the character in some time. He never wanted that.
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Time moved at its full pace. 15 minutes remained to 12 ‘o’clock. His readers awaited what they were expecting to be a really memorable last episode. People wanted to know what happened to the characters in the end. He knew it was time to conclude what he had begun. Fear shouldn’t stop him from giving the readers what they want. He had lived the story happily.
Finally, he concluded and published the last episode with no characters, no dialogue and no story. He ensured that the conclusion wasn’t the end. He simply disguised the last episode under two simple words:
“THE END!”
It did not make him feel good, but definitely made him feel less bad!
@ramta jogi
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Childhood | English Poetry
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