Skip to main content

Fridays, books & some ghazals maybe?

A goodbye letter was found

on her desk at 5. 

An unusual Friday evening.  

While the room saw many beaming smiles,

she was exhausted on her job drama. 

Back home with a heart full of regrets, 

she was ready to retrace her steps, 

in the misery 2020. 

Yet, all the woes found their decimal point,

in Jagjit Sing's alleviating ghazal;


//Aaj Janaa Pyaar ki 

Jaadugari Kya Cheez Hai, 

Ishq Kijiye Phir Samajhiye, 

Zindagi Kya Cheez Hai, 

Khulti Zulfon Ne Sikhhayee,

Mausaumon Ko Shayaree.// 


Played on the TV flowing with the

library scene. 

That pleased smiled came back on her lips,

through her electrifying veins. 

A warm hug and a cup of chai 

broke the silence, 

Maa's routine, every evening at 6. 

Home's scent was finally coming in

with a wave of freedom, 

as her steps drew closer to the bookshelves,

shucking off the night-clubbing texts.

Her lost ishq was found again, 

in the books dwelling happily in the lights. 

An unusual yet unruffled Friday. 






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The picture-book perfect day!

The early morning June rays were bestowing their beauty on the Delonix Regia flamboyant trees and the fern-like leaves were shining with the small droplets of water upon them. The cool breeze blew against his rosy cheeks and messy hair during his walk to the old bookstore down the street. Small laughter of happiness could be heard at a distance in the play yard, where children were enjoying their holidays and the sweet smell of freshly-baked bread was slowly invading the neighborhood. It was a typical perfect morning for Chard and the small alley to the bookstore felt like little steps to heaven.  Then minutes later, reaching for the keys in his pockets, Chard quotes the famous romantic poet James Russell Lowell's line:  "And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days." Chard did his daily chores after opening his happy place and waited for the usual small crowd. The bookshop was a small vintage home of fiction and literature which had a

Sunshine and Roses, you say?

"Butterflies and rom-com you say?" Read the first line of Jai's "letter".  A love poem you asked, but can i invite you to peep into my mind instead?  You are the one who collects our little things, and me, well, mixed thoughts in a pot. That one fine day, when you kept blaberring about your obsession of Rachel and Ross, I found myself in a suffocating box. Our interests do not match. And symmetrical hearts, you say? And it still amazes me, how you went home with a little piece of my heart that day. All I know is that I met light, when your little fingers touched mine. Maybe this is, how the authors define love in your books.  Red roses, you ask? Can I offer you my playlist instead? Or can I play you something with my chords, while reminiscing about your scent? You dream of having pancakes with me, on a Sunday morning, but I prefer us, to be on the rooftop at 5am. And maybe I'll just kiss you under the flawless transition of the sky from dark to lilac. Wake u