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अप्रैल का महीना थोड़ा नर्म थोड़ा गर्म सन्तरा भी मिलता है और आम भी गोभी भी और भिंडी भी गरम पानी से नहाते है और कार में ऐसी चलाते हैं नए साल के प्लान बनाते हैं  बीते साल के बही खाते टटोलते हैं  अप्रैल का महीना थोड़ा नर्म थोड़ा गर्म ऐसे ही एक साल  काफी गरम था  अप्रैल का महीना  अस्तित्व पिघला  पहचान पिघली  आमदनी पिघली  लावा ही लावा था सब तरफ  महीने बीते जलते जलते...  फिर इस लावे में कुछ रंग मिलाए  कुछ हिम्मत जुटाई  कुछ इरादे किए  कुछ मदद मांगी  काफी तपस्या की  काफी कुछ त्यागा  इस अप्रैल के महीने से शुरुआत हुई एक नए सफर की  मालूम नहीं था तब क्या अंजाम होगा  सही गलत, अच्छा बुरा कौन जाने  बस रंगों के साथ उधेडः-बुन में लग गए  कभी जद्दोजहद, मायूसी, नाकामयाबी  कभी पुरूस्कार, तारीफ और छोटी छोटी खुशियां  कई पड़ाव पार किये...  आज इस अप्रैल के महीने में  आज ही के दिन  पंद्रह साल पूरे हुए  उस पिघलती दोपहर के  जब ज्वालामुखी फटा था  और लावा बहा था  वहाँ आज एक न...

More rejection Little acceptance More failures Few successes Years of endless hours alone Only some in the public eye...  Countless fiascos Few eureka moments Lots of black and grey Few Reds and yellows Many not-nows Few red dots with wows Many will say, awesome  You are an artist Few will understand,  why...  More times with no funds  Few with surplus More times of being in red Few in blue Many years of waiting Before the fame, if ever No retirement, no pension Ideas constantly brewing You chose to be an artist Unparallel joy To forget the pain Marks left  To go on after one has gone Issues immortalised Moments frozen  Emotions etched  Anger splashed Walls adorned Metro stations beautified  Homes brightened  Souls replenished Awards won Works validated  Articles written People inspired You chose to be an artist  A life never easy  Like a trek up the hill Incredible view; deep valley Two sides of the same coin A mixed bag ...

You were the 1st thing I noticed  When the car climbed up to clifton Standing tall  Branches twisted and entangled  Like the present day human relations All near you green and straight You were dancing to your own tune... I named you the rebel tree. You became my muse... I captured you  With the first rays of the morning sun  Mellow and yellow And with the last rays You a silhouette With the rising moon And the dramatic clouds I captured you just like that... You were the one where the barbets Perched and howled, much to Dudo's anguish You were the one where the birds rested before they flew off to the next and the next tree You were the one the langoors escaped to When Kishan and Sanju chased them You were also the one where the flying squirrel Took a pit stop before landing on the English oak You saw a lot, most of which I am not even aware But you saw me fall in love with you and the Ash tree and the English Oak...

If I were to be something else  tree I would be Devdar or a mighty oak Standing tall on the mountain slopes My roots be spread far and deep Entwined with the others near me Holding tight to the soil,  Rocks and water As would be my branches  Shooting up to the sky...  Bare and naked in autumn and winter Shedding all that I have   Carpet of brown leaves beneath On which I walk carefully In another world  Where I don this human form In the other months The branches lush green with foliage  Allowing the sun to sprinkle itself  From between to reach the ground As I sit under, In my human form, I capture the magic of light and shade...   Nothing lasts forever and fade we must Mightiest of trees also go...  So when time comes let me fall silently On a dark monsoon night Fall such that the path is not blocked That me in my human form can still walk past on The  hike to the jungles And occasionally rest on me for a while  As ...

I visit a mango orchard in Uttar Pradesh--my birth state.  Almost all, but a few trees had been harvested. They stood still, exhausted but happy after a bumper crop. The few which still bore the almost ripe chausa mango appear like a woman in full term. The fragrance of the leaves, the scent of the ripeness still on trees reach me with the light breeze caressing my being, all of it intoxicating. I am transported to my childhood home in Kanpur. We lived in a huge 3-storey house built by my grandfather. He had a green thumb and an immense love for fruiting trees. One because he loved fruits and two because he loved to light a fire each night during winter months, in our cozy fireplace and needed firewood. Our house had a mini    orchard. There were 5 mango trees, 4 lemon trees of different varieties, 1 pomegranate, 1  sweet lime, a chandan tree and a neem tree. A bougainvillea shrub, 2 gulmohar trees, 2 ashoka trees, chameli, kamini , lilies, roses, and bel...

message sent blue ticks stare at me silence speaks (c) shubhra  October 17th, 2021 ++++++ conversations  in your head or mine unwired emotions (c) shubhra October 6, 2021  ++++++ pouring rain river like roads my WFH oasis (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ thundering clouds rumbling inside unzen-like meditation (c) shubhra September 11, 2021 ++++++ Loaded mango tree— reminisce of my lost home baggage of the past (c) shubhra September 12, 2021

धूप की तरह बिखरी हुई सी कभी चांदनी सी पिघली हुई  होली के गुलाल सी उड़ती हुई  या बादलों सी  मस्त, आकाश में पैटर्न बनाती हुई  अजीब सी कुछ थी वो...  जहां जाती थोड़ा कुछ अपना छोड़ आती  कुछ थोड़ा उसका उठा लाती  समन्वय थी वो, मिली जुली...  जब गई तो,  बहुतों का जरा कुछ चला गया उसके साथ  कुछ ने बयान  किया ऐसे जैसे सबकुछ थी वो  कुछ  ने सिर्फ खामोश  अश्कों से उसे याद किया  मगर सबका थोड़ा कुछ चला गया उसके साथ  वो सब की थी  उसका कौन, किसी को नहीं पता  वो अपने साथ सबका कुछ ले गई  अपना क्या किसके पास छोड़ा किसी को नहीं पता...  अजीब सी थी, पर, क्या थी, क्यूँ थी क्या क्या छोड़ गई  और क्या क्या ले गई   कौन थी, कैसी थी,  क्यूँ थी, सब की थी  या किसी की नहीं  किसी को नहीं पता धूप की तरह बिखरी हुई सी या चांदनी सी पिघली हुई  रंग भरा पैलेट या खाली सफेद कैनवस अधुरी किताब या पूरी पेंटिंग किसी को नहीं पता किसी को कुछ नहीं पता बस ज़रा सी थी  बिखरी सी  यहां वहां  जान...

खट खट!! कौन है? हम चांद! चांद कौन? पूर्णमासी का चांद... अच्छा! तो क्या लाए हो? हम चाँदनी लाए हैं... पता है पूर्णमासी की चाँदनी में अमृत होता है... भला? हाँ! आज की चाँदनी जहां जहां टपकेगी वहाँ अमृत गिरेगा। तुमको चाहिए ये अमृत? तुम्हारे लिए खास ऑफर... अच्छा वो क्या? चाँदनी के साथ चांद फ्री!! (c) shubhra August 18th, 2019

आज बारिश लगातार हो रही है मूसलाधार... तेज़, काफी तेज़... घिर आए बादल कुछ घने, कुछ काले, कुछ बेचैन, कुछ नाराज कुछ उदास लेकिन सब भरे हुए... रोने को आतुर... बस अब थम नहीं रहे मानो सारे जहां का दर्द भरा हुआ हो सीने में, थम ही नहीं रहे! गुबार है कि सैलाब की तरह निकल रहा है... कभी लगा कि हवा के थपथपाने से कुछ सुकून आया, शायद थम रहे हैं, रुलाई, सिसकियों में बदल रही है... बिखर रहे हैं ये बादल... पर नहीं ये आज ना तो थमेंगे, ना ही बिखरेंगे, ना ही संभलेंगे... आज तो सब कुछ ही बाहर उड़ेल देंगे इतना सब कुछ तो है जो समेटे हुए हैं दिल में सब का जहां थामे हुए मेरा, तुम्हारा, उसका, इसका सबका... एक अकेला अम्बर आखिर कब तक बीमार का, बेरोज़गार का अकेले-तन्हा का भीड़ में  फंसे हुये का नज़रबंद का और आज़ाद का भी नास्तिक का और  भक्त का देसी का और विदेशी का भी सब कोई अपना सब कुछ इस आसमान से ही तो बांटते हैं... भर गया  आज इसका कलेजा, घिर आए बादल... इतने लोग इस धरती पे और एक आसमान अकेला सब का संसार ढकता हुआ उसका जिसके माँ-बाप नहीं या जिसके बच्चे नहीं जिसका र...

ये सवाल मैं अक्सर करती हूँ अपने आप से... क्या तुम मेरे बारे में सोचते हो? जब चांद को देखते हो - क्या तुम मेरे बारे में सोचते हो? या जब मूसलाधार पानी बरसता है तब? मेट्रो पे जाते समय त...

घर से बाहर निकल कर उसने आसमान को देखा, और देखती रह गयी... आज चाँद अधबुध था... पहाड़ों के ऊपर, सुनहेरा सा, अभी अभी उगता हुआ... काफी देर तक वो चाँद को ताकती रही... फोन से फोटो खींची वॉटस्‍प...

Barren trees, shapely, beautiful, not a leaf on board shooting up to the sky twisted, curved branches reaching out standing out among the greens tall and naked to the core calling to the heavens for just one, one green shoot and a cycle of hope again... (c) shubhra 2nd April, 2014

If love was a poem a haiku it would be  say little feel a lot If love was clay bowl it would be  holding within it all If love was moon a full or a new crescent beautiful and surreal If love was sunshine hues of sunrise or of winter afternoon golden, warm and soft If love was a painting  Van Gogh's strokes spontaneous, colourful with hopes, dreams and agony If love was a rain a lightning thunderstorm at night and downpour;  a live concert..  If love was a hug bear hug it would be  embracing with all it has If love made love slowly and passionately move feeling each nook and corner before erupting in an orgasm If love was her a glow in the eyes, halo of white hair a  song in the heart...  gorgeous from core If love was you... a laughter that grips a smile that stirs the soul a heart that melts... or wait If love was you... it wouldn’t be love anymore logs of wood chopped from once beautiful Pine now...

Let the scars remind of life, love and hurt embroidered with blood sweat and tears... intensity be thread to weave it with! (C) shubhra September 9, 2018

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 ...