Ek kavita ki khoj (The search for a poem)

Ek din yoonhi nikal gaya tha ghar se main
Socha ik kavita hi talaash loon

Kuch socha toh hui hairat
Kahan dhoondun tujhe
Kahan se shuru karun talaash

Sawaal mein ghulit hoye yeh kavita
Ya samayi hoye jawaab

Sapnon ke tukdon mein milegi kahin
Ya zindagi ke ik bhoole guchchhe mein rakhi si dikhegi

Guzre kal mein tattolun tujhe
Ya aane wale kal mein tarrashun
Kaho toh parosun tujhe main aaj

Mehkegi baharon ke khile phoolon jaise
Ya patjhadd ke toote patton si sarsarahegi

Bachchon ki khilkhilati hasi mein goonjegi
Ya tharrayegi unki masoom siskiyon mein

Subah ghonslon se nikalte hue parindon ki chachahatt mein
Ya sham ko ghar laut-te shor mein sunayi degi

Phatte kapdon par zameen talashte keede se samjhun
Ya samjhun udte hue bhooke baaz ghanere se
Kaho toh samjhun ubakti hui machhliyon se

Likhi jayegi thame paani ki satah par
Ya phir uski gehraiyon ke bhanwar mein gotey khayegi

Sardi mein rooh ko sehlati agni jaise
Ya mritakon ki tapti raakh mein dhuein si uthegi

Jo ho raha hai usmein ghategi
Ya ubhregi usmein jo ki ho kabhi na

Jeevan jaisa ik raaz hai tu
Kahan shuru hoti hai aur kab thamti hai
Aur kya hota hai us dauraan

Tera bhed ab yeh khul gaya hai
Kyun kiya maine sawaal aur kya hi hai jawaab
Humesha thi tu mujh mein kash-m-kash si

Kyun nikla ghar se main.

The Flute player by the roadside

A small touristy town which I call a cosmopolitan in transit is home to many refugees who are living in exile. It is weird that you cannot live where at your innocent best you once had created your house with the mixture of soil and water.

Life however, continues.

We adapt and adjust to the world and survive. It would have been better if Charles Darwin was an economist, at least that way we would get an idea about how we would evolve to survive in this world of today.

There are many stories, about many people. This is one such. A man, who isn’t a refugee and yet is in exile of sorts because this is where he survives alone away from his family and homeland.

The hands help him carve the most beautiful flutes and the breath creates a magic of sorts. And how the artistry, the business, the survival, the life goes on…. by the roadside.