Writers' Block

I shouldn't need to try harder to make this rhyme,
This shouldn't happen anywhere, any day, anytime,
The words should flow through my veins, my bones,
They should spill on the pages as my heart overflows.
My hands shouldn't slow as they put the words down,
I shouldn't need to struggle as I spell them out,
I shouldn't need to breathe to calm my mind,
I shouldn't need to stop or slow my stride.
My fingers shouldn't ache to get some rest,
They shouldn't need to feel they're going through a test,
The ink in my pen should never be enough,
No, writing a few lines shouldn't be at

all tough.

I shouldn't need to organize or collect my thoughts,
I shouldn't need to reread what my fountain pen jots,
I shouldn't need to look away from these pages,
I shouldn't need to look for inspiring images.
No, there shouldn't be a pause in the stroke,
No, I shouldn't have to stutter, neither choke,
No, I shouldn't need to wait for the thoughts to flock,
This is probably what they call writers' block.

Pyaar, Ishq, Mohabbat....

Kai din baad aisi raat aayi hai,

Jo apne haath mohabbat ka saath laayi hai,

Itni chup chup si, Itni sharmili,

Ithlati, balkhati, chaandni raat aayi hai..

Aashiko ka aalam chaaya hua hai,

Dilo ki dhadkan, ishq ka dhua hai,

Mohabbat mein bheegi hai yeh fizaaein,

Shaayad inhe bhi kisi se pyaar hua hai...

Taare bhi aaj kuch zyaada hi chamak rahe hai,

Apne dildaar ki baaho se lipat rahe hai,

Milan ki chah hai unke rom rom me aisi,

Ki dilbar ki nazro ke liye, sada chamak rahe hai..

Dariya ka paani aaj tham sa gaya hai,

Shaayad isme kuch gham jam sa gaya hai,

Ret use baar baar thukra raha hai,

Shaayad dard-e-dil mein, yeh paani tham sa gaya hai...

Over the edge...

                A few days ago, I happened to read an article about a college student who had killed himself because his hair loss treatment was not showing any significant results. The first thought that came to my mind was, "how can anyone be so stupid". But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that as sad as this incident was, the student is not to blame. It is the society that is to be blamed. The society, which with its cruel hands has strangled this young boy to death.

                 I wonder what could have possibly happened that could have driven him to such extremes  I put myself in his shoes, and then I see it. I imagine him with his friends. I see him putting a happy face, cracking jokes amongst them, but I hear him think about how different he felt among them - how out of place. I see him walk the streets and feel invisible. On the rare occasion that someone noticed him, I see him flinch at the way they looked at him - like he didn't belong. I see him try to have a conversation with someone, he seemed very animated. Then I see him notice how their eyes would always look above his eyes, wondering how odd  he was and being grateful that he couldn't hear them. But he saw right through all of them. Disgusted, I see him argue with himself on deciding whether or not to try and get treated for it. I see his sensitive self win, and he approaches a doctor for treatment. I see him waking up every morning since his treatment started, looking in the mirror for the slightest change. I see his face contort in disappointment when he found none. I see him suffer the routine of college and friends and the odd looks they gave him. I see him wish. desperately, that this wouldn't matter to him, but he knew it did. Too much. I see him torment himself this way for days. I see him break and crumble. I see him lose every shred of self confidence he ever had. Then I understand, that he did not kill himself, a shallow and vain society did this to him.

               He was a good person. He cared about his family as much as he missed them. Living most of his life in a hostel, he'd never had enough time with them. He had his own demons that he had to face every day. One more demon was more than he could handle.

               I do not think that this is the only blood upon our society's hands. So many people's self esteem, is stabbed, bruised and trampled everyday by the judgmental world. I, undeniably am a part of that world and that shames me to no ends. That every judgement we make, consciously or otherwise, is another crack in the person's confidence. Whilst we revel in the thought that they can not hear us think, we forget that one's eyes are the windows of one's souls. Disgust and hatred can be conveyed with a single look just as well as happiness, love, sadness and pride can. We do not realize how much damage can be done, just with our thoughts. We do not know whose blood is on our hands...