Monday, November 4, 2013


There is nothing to write. Nothing really. Not a word comes my way that doesn't sound like a paraphrase. Redundant and a complete waste. Yet I write to hold on to myself. If I stop writing there will be lost even a semblance of cure.

I want to be honest. I want to talk to someone I do not know but trust instinctively. And till that happens I continue to be jittery. I remember a few years back..I used to be able to talk, write so honestly.. at the time I might not have possessed the wisdom(?) to understand what was happening but I was able to convey. I used to be able to write about things unabashedly and the least of my concerns was pride. Now a certain shame has crept in. Shame in feeling something. Shame in expressing. Shame in grief. Shame in acceptance. Shame in sufferance. Shame in honesty. Shame in shame.

I am around my people now but the isolation has only grown. It is bothering me and I am unable to call for help. I lie. I pretend. But I wouldn't talk straight.

It is easier then to remain eclipsed.

Daagh Dehlvi

Uzr Aane Mein Bhii Hai Aur Bulaate Bhii Nahiin
Baais-E-Tark-E-Mulaaqaat Bataate Bhii Nahiin

Khuub Pardaa Hai Ke Chilaman Se Lage Baithe Hain
Saaf Chhupate Bhii Nahiin Saamne Aate Bhii Nahiin

Ho Chukaa Qata Ta'lluq To Jafaayen Kyon Hon
Jinko Matlab Nahin Rahta Wo Sataate Bhii Nahiin

Ziist Se Tang Ho Ae Daag To Jiite Kyon Ho
Jaan Pyaarii Bhii Nahiin Jaan Se Jaate Bhii Nahiin