माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

इस कमरे का एकाकीपन 

तन्हा है ये मेरा मन 

इस अंधियारे में तेरी याद 

यादों के दीप जलाती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

पास के छत पर माँ कोई 

गोद के मुन्ने में खोई,

कोमल थपकी दे-देकर 

जब लोरी कोई सुनाती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

जब गर्म तवा छू जाता है 

हाथ मेरा जल जाता है 

या तेज धार की छूरी से 

ऊंगली ही कट जाते है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

हाँ, तुमसे मेरी दूरी है 

कुछ ऐसी ही मजबूरी है 

देर रात तक बिस्तर पर 

जब नींद मुझे न आती है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

कुछ बड़े सही मेरे अरमाँ 

पर बुरा नहीं मैं, मेरी माँ 

क्यूँ बार-बार तू रो-रोकर 

दिल के टूकड़े कर जाते है,

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

जब मुखड़ा तेरा हँसता है 

मुझे कितना अच्छा लगता  है 

इक दिन तुम्हें हँसाउंगा 

आवाज़ ये दिल से आती है, 

माँ, याद तुम्हारी आती है।

-- राहुल कुमार

(सर्जना 27वें अंक से)

A night with stars

Well everything starts with a daydream and not every ounce of it but at least some of it, in deformed or changed form, comes true. With an excitement  to see the galloping meteors across the sky I spent nearly one hour under the bare sky hoping to encounter one of the rarest events that we do not happen to see everyday. Well truth be told, I thought it would be like I saw few years back, a long bright flashing tail like a falling star that leaves behind the greatest sensations for such a vision. But it was albeit quite under measured.

While this course, I reinvented the aestheticism of star gazing when you lie under the sky and stars twinkle giving a titillation every now and then that they are going to fall. But they too are like the precarious ones who always have the maximum chances surrounding them to showcase something real and unusual but it is really once in a while and never predictable. They seem like tiny little bright white holes in the sky but still so fascinating, so attractive, so storied that I am in surprise that I spend quite a long time with them in the quietness of nights. 

It was something that went in a flash and after literally wrecking my neck I can never admit that it might be an illusion to my eye which I was unfortunately on my way to accept when I got an another treat of similar drop. And this time it felt real. Though quite an underestimated and reduced version of my fantasy but I am real glad that I saw it because like the event it is also quite rare that we go behind our every fantasy and it works out. We all are so busy in walking and talking and rushing on the ground that we hardly bother to look up where we used to stare a lot for our every little wish.I wanted people to hang out with me to partake the load of silent hours and share the physical pain of crippling my neck but the solitude at night after a real long time was also worth. I grabbed so many lost thoughts and was rewarded at the end no doubt.

Stars I remember used to be widely spread across the whole sky earlier but today they were clustered, though very less densely, to a squeezed central region of it. It might be because of the changing dimensions of the purpose for which stars were meant for. Though they never contributed much to dispel luminance and curtail the darkness of night but they used to be the source of fainted lights distanced real far to brighten up the sky and give moon a company. Their reflection in  a ripple less lake used to seem like a glowing coverlet with sparking dots. But today the light of earth is brighter enough it seems to blind the sky above. So they have retired.

Neways I hope to see lot of falling stars in future as well though I know they are already hiding and apparently getting extinct but that it's how we are going to realize that they are still there above.

For the Angels

Some lines that I happened to find written about the most tender and natural age of childhood. Sharing here with some of mine:

We worry about what our children will be one day, we forget that they are already someone today.

We have had a bad luck with our kids: They have grown up.

There are not seven wonders in the eyes of a child, there are seven billions.

The questions of a child sometimes can shut up the wisest person.

They come in the world full of magic.

They grow up in the world of surprises.

They get old in the world of cliches'.

A child id not a sketchbook. They already are filled with billion colors  Let the rainbow sprout and create a skyline where they can use their colorful, sparkly wings to cover wider skies and breathe in the sweetest air.

Their wisdom in human behavior and emotional flux can defeat any adult.

An age that does not fear, an age that always dream, an age that is never tired, an age that always bosom: that's childhood.

Their hugs are like embrace of god, their kisses like drops from heaven and their smiles like a divine arc on the majestic face of an angel.

We often forget what we were and what have we become, they are the cute reminders.

                                                                                               ......................................to be continued