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मेरी टेबल पर एक डब्बा है जिसमें बहुत सी टूटी हुई चीजें हैं फ्रिज मैगनट, पेन, झुमके, खिलौने आदि वो वहां इसलिए हैं कि उन्हें जोङना है कमबख्त वक्त ही नही मिला इस के लिए। फिर कल डब...

If I were rain, the first shower of the season I would be, quenching thirst of all parched souls! Drenching all alike the birds, the trees, wilting plants on the street the rich and the poor, witnessing the dance of the happy spirit as I soak them! (c) shubhra June 11, 2013 inspired by Manjul Bajaj

She asked him how many have you truly loved He replied One! just one and smiled... She smiled back secretly hoped answer would be two That would assure one of them was her... (c) Shubhra May 25, 2017

First it is awkward, then annoying and worrying You see a pattern and it hits home There is shock and pain,  denial too; Some justification some attempts Self wakes up There is acceptance to see the unsaid hear the hidden All is numb now Life moves Memories follow Touch nestles on the cushions Smile hangs between the paintings gathering dust Words play hide and seek, tired finally rest on the tree in the corner Time for a break Narangi vodka or a chilled beer? or some Adel maybe Simon & Garfunkel Still deciding All is numb now Life moves Memories remain (c) shubhra 5th May,  2017

We live in strange times what is seen is never shown what is heard, never said what is felt is not what's expressed "Love you" doesn't mean love anymore "hate you" doesn't mean hate either "sorry" is no longer a regret "thank you" no more an expression of gratitude "I am ok" never means things are alright and nothing is well in "I am well" and "all is well" "nice" no longer is so nice, and "that's ridiculous" may not be that bad A lifetime is spent deciphering meanings Reading between the lines and looking beyond the words Is a skill essential straightforward conversations are rare and life status always complicated... ...because We live in strange times...here "Love you" doesn't mean love anymore!! (c) shubhra December 24, 2015

Your poems were for me mine for everyone but you... You looked at me, for me I looked at everyone and for everyone but you... You loved me but left... I left you but still loved... You scarred your body in search of me I scarred my soul in spite of you. You moved on and turned into a family man a lovely husband and a great father. I moved on and turned into a bohemian artist. a single woman and a great catch Our lives carried on Our paths seldom crossed Crossed if they did only to move on again... Until one warm and humid August Morning... The destiny intermingled again The line connected and so did the hearts... Now my poems are for you but you are for others I look for you but you have to look at others My love is for you and yours is divided... My soul is still scarred looking for a balm Your body is still scarred looking for the cure We seem to be the pieces of a puzzle waiting to ...

My poems were for you Yours for everyone but me... I looked at you, for you You looked at everyone and for everyone but me... I loved you but left... You left me but still loved... I scarred my body in search of you You scarred your soul in spite of me. I moved on and turned into a family man A loving husband and a  great father. You moved on and turned into a bohemian artist... A single woman and a great catch! Our lives carried on Our paths seldom crossed Crossed if they did only to move on again... Until one warm and humid August morning... The destiny intermingled again The line connected and so did the hearts... Now your poems are for me but I am for others You look for me but I have to look at others Your love is for me and mine is divided... Your...

आज पूरी सुबह उसने स्टोर में बिताई...  बक्से में से गरम कपड़े निकाले  और छत पे डाल उनमे धूप लगाई...  लाल पीले, हारे, गुलाबी हर रंग के स्वेटर बिखरे हुए थे...  पर उसका ध्यान सिर्फ़ ऊनी जॅकेट और कोट  पर था...  हर एक की जेब टटोल के ढूँढ रही थी  शायद कुछ रुपय मिल जाए पिछले साल के...  फिर नीले कोट में से एक काग़ज़ मिला...  इंक पेन से सुंदर लिखावट में लिखा था...  'पटेल चौक मेट्रो स्टेशन- 2.30 बजे, इंतिज़ार करूँगा...' उसने कलाई पे बँधी घड़ी को देखा... दिन के 'ढाई' (2.30) बजे थे... (c) shubhra, 13th November, 2013

कलफ़ लगी हुई सूती सारी का पल्ला (जो की रात तक मुस चुका था), उसने कमर में खोसा हुआ था... आज वो ज़्यादा थॅकी हुई थी पर नींद गायब थी... नवेंबर की सर्दी में बाहर छत पे खड़ी हुई वो चाँद को ताक रही थी और काँप भी रही थी...   गुज़रे दिन को याद करते हुए सोच रही थी... क्या वो भी इस समय जागा हुआ चाँद को देख रहा होगा? (c) Shubhra, 12th November, 2013 12/11/13

कल तुम्हारे साथ थी तुम्हारे सोए हुए बिस्तर की सिलवटों में तो कभी तुम्हारी किताबों के बीच, तुम्हारे चौके में  बर्तनो के साथ    तो कभी दरवाज़ए की चौकठ पे; बगीचे में घास पे पड़ी ओस में और आम के पेड़ पे चहकती चिड़ियों के साथ, बाहर सड़क पे कंकर के बीच और तुम्हारी गाड़ी की सामने वाली सीट पे भी; कल तुम्हारे साथ थी तुम्हारी अलमारी घड़ी कपड़े रूमाल जूते सब के आस पास मंडराती रही; कल तुम्हारे साथ थी चाय बनाते अख़बार पढ़ते दौड़ते नहाते खाते और सोते हुए भी... करीब से देखा कल तुम्हे कल तुम्हारे साथ थी सुना है नौ बजे के करीब खुद से जुदा हुई थी तो क्या उसी समय तुमसे मिली? यकीन तो नहीं मगर लगता ज़रूर है  कि... कल रात तुम्हारे साथ थी...   (c) shubhra, 6th January 2014

आज बहुत दिन बाद वो घर में अकेली थी, काम काज निपटा के वो थोड़ी देर धूप सेकने के  लिए बाहर आके बैठी| नीला आसमान, मीठी सी धूप और रेडियो मिर्ची पे मनपसंद गाना... "इतना  ना मुझसे तू प्यार बढ़ा, की मैं एक बादल आवारा..."  उसने अपने बगीचे पे नज़र दौड़ाई, टमाटर के पौध में फूल आ रहे थे और गुलदावदी में कली... "ये पौधों का जीवन भी कितना हसीन है, एक सर्दी में ही शुरू से अंत तक का सफ़र तय हो जाता है...  और यहाँ सदियान बीत जाती हैं मगर सफ़र ख़त्म नही होते..." उसने सोचा| तभी  दरवाज़े की घंटी बजी देखा तो एक चिठ्ठी आई थी, लिखावट पहचानी हुई थी, कोरे पन्ने पे 24 पंक्तियों की एक कविता थी... पढ़ ही रही थी की फोन बजा, एक sms था, एक लाइन का, "he is no more..." कभी कभी कुछ शब्द ही काफ़ी होते हैं कत्ल के लिए, और वो ये सोच रही थी कि... ये पौधों का जीवन भी कितना हसीन है, एक सर्दी में ही शुरू से अंत तक का सफ़र तय हो जाता है...  और यहाँ सदियान बीत जाती हैं मगर  सफ़र ख़त्म नही होते... (c) shubhra 25th December, 2013

Sometimes I am  the poet  sometimes  the poem; Sometimes I am  the singer  sometimes  the song; Sometimes I am  the archer  sometimes  the arrow; Sometimes I am  the wound  sometimes  the blood trickling  from your eyes… Sometimes I am me and sometimes I am you!! © shubhra, 24th December, 2013

I see you, your world, green dot; do you see me too? Love in times of Facebook. (c) shubhra,  18th December, 2013

Words are floating in the void of my mind my heart in the nooks and corner of my body between the cavities and in my veins! Words are floating in the spaces around me in my studio between the   stacked canvases in the balcony between the pots in the kitchen between   the bottled spices  and even   in my car between the   seats! Words are   floating every where! I feel them see them meet them every where! Constantly talking to me sometimes  telling a story sometimes weaving a verse or even a haiku! Words   are floating like the monsoon winds laden with moisture ready to come down on paper get immortalized black on white! Words these words are just floating eluding the pen and its ink scared to face the world! Words are floating like my thoughts as I wait for the cloud burst to drench...

Will you ever take form inside me? that rush of blood, that moment when the sperm collides and fuses into my egg and gives birth to you will you let me have that moment? Will you implant yourself in my womb and grow and with you allow me to grow in mind and in body? Will you show me yourself on that ultra sound machine? Or kick me in the middle of the night? Will you try to arrive normally, on time? Or owing to my age you would want to cut open my tummy to reach out for your mummy? Will you look like me? have my curly hair and big eyes too? Will you have my attitude or my attributes? Will you be my cause and effect? or be ready to become the sole purpose of my existence? Will you give me my Sunday to live for? Will you come into me, into my soul, my life, someday? Will you carry forward my genes, what I got, or my destiny, what I made into the next world? Will you? Tell me little one will you co...

इश्क़ पे किसी का ज़ोर नही होता ये कभी सोच के नही होता और जो सोच के हो तो वो इश्क़ नही होता|| (c) shubhra 20th May 2013

Haiku 1 Green, dark and light hmm.. some yellow too.. a palate for spring! (c) shubhra 21st March, 2013 (On World Poetry day I attempted my 1st haiku.) Haiku 2 Cacophony of glass shattered by the storm is it the heart (c) shubhra 30th March 2013 Haiku 3 Cuts, stitches, scars even pain;all fade time works! (c) shubhra  26th April 2013 Haiku 4 Seasons, reasons, people feelings, thoughts,opinions; all change time works! (c) shubhra  April 26th 2013 Haiku 5 एक पूरी करो चार खड़ी हो जाती हैं कम्बख़्त ज़रूरतें|| (c) shubhra 9th May 2013

जो हवा तेरी, वही मेरी, जो धरती तेरी वही मेरी भी इस सड़क पे जितना हक़ तेरा उतना ही मेरा भी फिर क्यूँ मुझे है दहशत तुझसे और तुझे है नफ़रत मुझसे? (c) shubhra, January 3, 2013

In the silence of the night, the live concert is on! Raindrops follow a steady rhythm and the clouds occasionally rumble  lightening adds the disco effect the live concert is on! Composer presents an original lullaby and the audience gently sleeps the live concert is on! (c) shubhra 16/2/13

The stream, flows happily... Gushing and meandering through the mountains and plains passing the big stones, jumping onto the smaller ones Spraying and splashing in day it’s her shine at night the sound that leaves all spellbound. Uncaring and unnerved by the boulders, the trees and even the roads built over her. She flows on turning from a waterfall to a stream to a waterfall again. laughing and moving ahead. STOP her and she turns, taking a new path! Passing the fields the mountains the villages soothing one and all by her magical gait. Moves on undeterred till she merges happily losing her identity and becoming one with the river! The stream like the spirit and the soul like a carefree teenage girl hops, skips and jumps… dancing to the tunes of time till she finds her abode! The stream,  flows happily!! © Shubhra 3 rd Sep 2012 (en-route village Turtuk, Laddakh)