संगीत (With Translation)

Photo of Bangles at Dilli Haat, Delhi, India.

“संगीत”

आसमान में इस आधे-अधूरे चाँद के साथ
दिल के दर-ओ-दीवार में दर्द उतर आया हैं।

ज़िन्दगी की इस दरहम – बरहम महफ़िल में
गर्दिश-ए-आफत में
बेवफ़ाई-हा-ए-याराँ में
मेरा चैन कहीं खो गया हैं।

इन रंजिशों के शोर में
तेरी गुलाबी चूड़ियों  का
रात की तेरी लोरियों का
संगीत कही खो गया हैं।

आज रात फिर तेरी यादों का भवर, माँ
मेरे इन आँसुओ में उतर आया है।

---

” The Song”

With the coming of half-made moon in the sky
Pain has invaded each wall and corner of my heart.

In the helter-skelter gathering of life
In the movements of adversities and calamities
In the inconstancies of beloved
my peace has been lost somewhere.

In the noises of sorrows and grief
the song of your tinkling rosy bangles 
the song of your night time lullabies
has been lost somewhere.

Again tonight, an eddy of your memories, mother
whirls through my tears.

(Thank you, Himanshu for helping me with English translation.)

---

“Sangeet”

Aasman mei iss aadhe-adhure chand ke sath
Dil ke dar-o-deewar mei dard utar aaya hai

Zindagi ke is darham-barham mehfil mei
Gardish-e-aafat mei
Bewafai-haa-e-yaaraan mei
mera chan kahi khoo gaya hai

Inn ranjishon ke shor mei
teri gulabi choodiyon ka
raat ke teri looriyon ka
sangeet kahi khoo gaya ha

Aaj raat fir teri yaadon ka bhawar, maa
meri inn aansuon mei utar aaya hai

---

(Note: The Picture was clicked at Dilli Haat, INA, India, which is the most exquisite place to buy beautiful Indian handicrafts.)

– Kritika Vashist

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Blank Pages

One night you’ll be all alone by yourself
with your grey hair and wrinkled face
you’d try to plop down near the fireplace
when the forgotten love would break its shell.

Your shaky and crinkled hands would try
to hold the diary of blank pages I threaded
for you to know that I’ll there if ever your sails shredded
for you to heart out your life’s hows and whys.

In subdued glow your droopy and wet eyes
which I believe still appear as an ocean
the one that had swallowed me in devotion
would read those blank pages you had despise.

You might cry a bit, you will regret a lot
when you’ll see the fire burning outside, inside
of your heart where I had once comfortably reside
when you’ll try to recreate my face you forgot.

In your loneliness you would be full of time
and you would try to ink those blank pages
with your sorrows and how life is at lonely stages
but by then you’d realize that dry ink is not worth a dime.

In the blue and the dim and the fire light
my love would come and make you whole
for even then you’ll remain pilgrim in my soul
for even then my love won’t be out of your sight.

-Kritika Vashist

Sleepless Nights

The stars spread themselves
over the velvet night sky.
The moonlight penetrates
the darkest voids.
As the silence embarks
another sleepless night.

Through out the day
the clock ticks recklessly,
and the night appears
in a blink of an eye.
Perhaps, time loves night,
as the clock ticks like a ponderous animal.
Perhaps, nights are always heavy,
for they carry our thoughts
all our grief, all our sorrows
all broken dreams, all tomorrows.
Perhaps, nights listen patiently,
about the stories of our loneliness
of our lost love, and all secrets
of disappointment, and regrets.
Perhaps, nights are longer,
for they fight with the demon
that lives within us,
and the one only known to us.

And I wonder,
How the nights are silent,
and yet, speak the loudest.
How the nights are meant to sleep,
and yet, I am here at 1:20 am,
struggling with another sleepless night.

-Kritika Vashist