Skip to main content

Lonely - A poem

तन्हा ( Lonely)

ये हवा ....गुदगुदाती, खिलखिलाती , मदमस्त हवा। 
न जाने कहा से चली आती है ; न जाने कहा चली जाती है।

This breeze...gentle, tickling, frolicking breeze.
Don't know where it comes from and where it goes away.


पर जब भी आती है अपने साथ एक नया पैगाम, एक नई  खुश्बू , एक नई आहट  लेकर आती है।
आज जब यह हवा मुझे छु कर गुजरती है तो एक नया एहसास दिलाती है ~ तन्हाई का एहसास ।

But everytime it comes it brings along a new message, a new fragrance, a new sound.
Today as this breeze touches me it gives me a new feeling - the feeling of being lonely.

हजारो की भीड़ मैं तन्हा ; अपनों के बीच मैं पराया।
न है राह का ठिकाना और न है मंजिल की खबर।
बस यूही चले जा रहे है न जाने किस ओर  यह क़दम।

Lonely amidst a crowd, unknown amidst all the known.
Have no clue about the way or the destination,
My steps just keep moving on without knowing the direction.

Source: Google Images
किसीके के पास न वक़्त है न फुर्सत, जिंदगी युही चली जा रही है.
कही कोई नया जन्म  हुआ तो कही किसीने दम तोडा।
 एक हाथ से ख़ुशी मनाई तो दूजे से आंसू पुछा।
 न कोई उमंग है न कोई एहसास, 
बस एक पहिये की तरह चक्करों मैं चलती जा रही है जिन्दगी।

Nobody has the time or leisure, life is just moving on 
Somewhere there is a new birth, while somewhere someone has passed away
Raised one hand in celebration and wiped a tear with the other

There is no enthusiasm or feeling left,  life seems to be just moving on in endless circles

कभी कभी लगता है मैं एक अलग ही दुनिया मैं रहती हु जहा सिर्फ मैं और मेरी यादें है ; 
अन्छुई , अनदेखी  और उन्सुनी  ।

Sometimes I feel I exist in a different world of mine altogether where the only residents are Me and my memories; untouched, unfelt and unseen.

लेने वाले सब कुछ लेके चले गए बस चंद यादों  के अलावा।
इन यादो के आलावा मेरे पास बचा क्या है ;
चाहे तो वो भी लेलो पर वैसे तो इन मैं रखा क्या है?
छुओ तो मुट्ठी भर रेत है ये  पर जियो तो एक ख़लबली।
फिर भी उन्हें संजों के रखा है न जाने किसके इंतज़ार मैं। 

The takers have taken along everything with them except these memories. 
I have nothing else left with me today except them;
If you wish please take them along too but they are of no value.
If you hold them they are like a fistful of sand but if you live them they are ecstatic.

ये यादें ही तो है जो तनहा होके भी साथ होने का एहसास दिलाती है।
जिस दिन मैं यादें संजोना छोड़ दूंगी ----------------------------
----------------------- शायद उस दिन मैं जीना छोड़ दूंगी।
  
These memories are the ones who despite being lonely seem to give company.
The day I cease cherishing these memories, perhaps that day I would cease to exist.


Popular posts from this blog

A perfect SUNDAY

Remember the time when Sundays used to mean waiting for the evening, to be glued to TV screens for the popular award functions? That was my defination of perfect Sunday. Well today is going to one such as (clearing throat) I have been awarded.  (*** Doing the happy dance***) Source: Google Images

Book Review: Decoding ESG by Rear Admiral Sanjay Roye

"Decoding ESG - A Comprehensive Guide to Environmental, Social, and Governance Principles" offers a profound exploration of the intricate realm of ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) principles. Through a meticulous examination of its core components, this book serves as an indispensable resource for readers seeking to understand and apply ESG principles in today's corporate world.  The book commences by elucidating the fundamental concepts of ESG, illuminating its paramount importance in shaping contemporary corporate strategies. It then proceeds to dissect the three pillars of ESG—Environmental, Social, and Governance—providing readers with a nuanced comprehension of their profound impact on businesses worldwide. 

Book Review: Palestine Wail - Poems by Yahia Lababidi

In Palestine Wail: Poems , Yahia Lababidi creates a profound and unflinching exploration of the ongoing Palestinian crisis, drawing from his own heritage and heartbreak to reflect on a political and humanitarian catastrophe that has unfolded across decades. This collection, imbued with personal history, political outrage, and spiritual contemplation, serves as both a witness to injustice and a call to humanity. The work’s origins lie deeply in Lababidi’s own roots—his Palestinian grandmother, Rabiha Dajani, was forced to flee Jerusalem at gunpoint, a traumatic event that reverberates throughout Lababidi’s poetry.  As an Arab-American writer, Lababidi is uniquely positioned to speak on the intersection of identity, politics, and human rights. His poetry, both personal and political, draws a clear line between the suffering of the Palestinian people and the complicity of global powers in perpetuating that suffering. Through his words, Lababidi eloquently counters the equation that Z...