Rishtey bhi
galiyon ki tarah
Milti hai aur milvaathi hai
Kabhi pathli, kabhi moti.
Bachte bachate hue
Idhar udar, yahaan wahaan
Kuch naye anubhav dilathi hai
Rishtey bhi
Galiyon ki tarah
Kabhi chupke
aur kabhi sandesh ke Saath
Muddke jati hai
ek doosare se takraathi hai
Bichadbi jati hai
Aur phir pata hi nahi chalta
Kaunsi gali kis taraf chali gayi.
Rishtey bhi hai galiyon ki tarah
Bachte bachate, idar udar, yahaan wahaan.
चाहे क्यों न खुदा भी करे उनके जिद्द से नफरत
नफरत करने वाले भी सब्र करना सिखा देते है
खुदा का खेल भी कुछ अलग नहीं
सब्र के नाम पे कुछ लोगो की ज़िन्दगी बीत जाती है
कहीं बार उन लोगो के ज़िन्दगी में कुछ अच्छा नहीं बनता
ऐसे ही कुछ लोग नास्तिक बन जाते है
और कुछ लोग अपने आप को बदक़िस्मती समाजके रह जाते है
पर कुछ लोग ऐसे भी होते है, जो ज़िद्दी है..
.. ये लोग किसी को दोषी नहीं मानते - न खुद को और न खुदा को..
..क्योंकि वो कभी आसानी से हार नहीं मानते
चाहे खुदा भी क्यों न करे उनके जिद्द से नफरत
She has waited long,
to also be taken along.
She listened to ‘em all,
who told many a tales, tall.
They traveled their journeys,
with splendid views they glee.
Leave thy worries at bay
.. so they all say.
For, her carriage shall also come,
A journey under the Splendid sun.
Several miles astray
Refugeed in sheds of hay.
Wandering many paths
Looking for whats not hath.
sought a carriage after so long
Hears a distant mourning dove’s song
Oh! she hears the song of misery
Hath she known, days to come so weary.
Wheeled over a rock so huge,
the carriage went down, apart it blew
Oh! her poor soul, it’s not her fault
Fate has tricked her to stumbled and fall.
Persistence has kept her feet go on
Through many carriages that were missed and gone.
Now she has only a glimpse of hope
Until a miracle to her, if could approach.
Jawani hai kitni nasheeli
Samay ke darbar me
jaise ek naachwali
Naachti hai koobsurat se
Magar usse yeh aagah nahi
Uski nashe bhi toh hai utarni
Aakir hai to Darbar samay ki,
Jahan budappan ki natak bhi hai honi.
Translation:
In the theater of time
Youth is intoxicating.
In the court of time,
Like a dancer
Who dances so beautifully
She is not aware,
that intoxication would also wear out.
After all, in this theater of time,
Where old age will also show it’s talents.
It always starts with a dot
Progresses to a circle
And then a sphere
It’s got beautiful curves
Like a paisley
It looks very pretty
Attracts her and others around
It kindles the consciousness
As it raises up like a mountain
Firm and rigid, yet beautiful and strong
It also builds insecurities
As someone else’s hands lay on ‘em
It can also bring her shame
But it’s not her fault.
It’s helping her nurture
For, there’s no other that’s better.
The mountains are cracked
Is it what’s underneath it?
It hurts.
It has to be taken off.
It’s no longer beautiful and no longer useful
It is painful to get it off.
It was her identity.
