Sometimes

Sometimes…
Sometimes you just feel like sitting in an empty room, with empty mind, but of course not an emty heart, it is filled, upto the brim with emotions. It’s been like a sea, a quite silent one, with no breeze blowing, a pin drop silence and out of sudden the waves starts to climb up and now the sea can’t hold back the silence. And there is a tsunami…

Sometimes you just feel like dumping your head deep into a pillow and cry, cry your heart out and wet that tender pillow and look up with you eyes and nose red and think for a while and then again dump yourself in that pillow…

Sometimes you just long so much to be loved, to be trusted, to be cared. You don’t want a solution or answer but just a shoulder to lean on simply to be loved. Just simple human warmth nothing more or less…

Sometimes you find yourself standing on a cliff, all alone and you wanna cry aloud, but the echoes keep on coming back and you can’t escape those…

Sometimes you find yourself helpless like standing in middle of nowhere, like inside a black hole, no matter, no time, no light, no dark nothing…
This sometime comes sometimes, goes sometimes…

Sometimes..
-Ujala

Advertisements

इश्क़

गुरूर को जो झुका ना दे, वो इश्क़ किस काम का?
रातों को जो ख़्वाबीदा बना ना दे, वो इश्क़ भला किस काम का?
चेहरे को जो नूरानी कर ना दे, वो इश्क़ किस काम का?
सांसों को जो रूहानी कर ना दे, वो इश्क़ भला किस काम का?
लबों पे सेहर की मुस्कान जो बन ना बैठे, वो इश्क़ किस काम का?
जहान से टकराने का जुनून जो बन ना बैठे, वो इश्क़ भला किस काम का?
इबादत से तालुक और जहान से रुसवाई जो करा ना दे, वो इश्क़ किस काम का?
ज़िन्दगी को एक मुसलसर तलाश जो बना ना दे, वो इश्क़ भला किस काम का?
परवाने को शम्मा में फ़ना जो कर ना दे, वो इश्क़ किस काम का?
अनपढ़ को उर्दू जो सीखा ना दे, वो इश्क़ भला किस काम का!
-उजाला।

दिल चाहता है।

उनके सदके में, इबादत को दिल चाहता है,
इस मीठे दर्द में, मुस्कुराने को दिल चाहता है,
उनकी खामोशी, गुनगुनाने को दिल चाहता है,
वो साकिब सितारा है, हमारे फलक में,
वो तबसुम है, हमारी हया में,
वो तीशनगी है, हमारी प्यास में,
उनकी नज़्म में, अल्फ़ाज़ होने को दिल चाहता है,
उनकी बारिश में, भीग जाने को दिल चाहता है,
उनके तस्सवुर में, हकीकत बनने को दिल चाहता है।

इस फितूर में, कुरबान होने को दिल चाहता है।
– उजाला।

Bangle

I’m a bangle.
Her smile, her rainbow,
Happiness, youth, love and sorrow.
Since eternity, I’m with her!
Queen or begger, black or white adoring her!

I’m a bangle,
The one daddy brought, when she cried in the fair.
The one which adored her wrist, as she became a bride.
The one which her baby held, sleeping in her loving arms.
The one in the sunburned hands, striving for her dreams.
The one which was broken, when monsters climbed her body and killed her soul.
The one she desired, the one is admired, the one she loved,
the one which saw her journey…

I’m a bangle,
daughter of soil, born in fire.
Just Like her, calm of sea and the heat of desire.

ujala

Son of Syria.

Oh, children of Syria!
Where art thou?
Here calls the vermilion playgrounds,
The black skies full of new wounds.
They all misses you, your sword and crown,
These empty swings with blood flowing down.

Oh, children of Syria!
Where art thou?
The green grasses longs for tenderness of your feet,
Lands awaiting for your smiles like breeze in heat.
The butterflies, flowers, stars and nights,
The sky, waiting for your lovely kites.

Oh, the children of Syria!
The dawn of human race!
Where art thou?
Come back love, come back!

In the bloody desert, a little corpse lies,
Telling it’s story of agony, pain and cries.
“I’m the son of Syria,
The bullets were fired at my childhood,
The bombs were thrown at my innocence,
The swords killed my pure soul,
The chemicals destroyed my dreams,
I’m the son of Syria!”

Awaken, mankind awaken!
Before one more childhood is taken,
Before one more house is scattered,
Before one more dream is shattered.

Oh, the children of Syria!

i_ujala.

Imagination and Reality

You are an imagination!
You are a reality!
You are the smile my lips wear,
You are the silence I wanna hear.
You are the Sunshine in my skies,
You are the laughter in my eyes.
You are the canvas, I’m painted in,
You are the story, I’m written in.
You are the sweet aroma after heavenly showers,
The happiness around, the colors in the flowers.
You are the dark that lights up everything,
You are a sweet melody, a song I wanna sing.
You are the hands I wanna hold,
You are the coffee in cold!
You are the stars, the moon, the night!
You are my heart’s favourite sight.
You, you are a reason to laugh, live or even slay,
A mountain, a valley, you are a place to escape away.
You are the world I’m living in.
You are the heart I’m beating in.
Oh! You,
A smile, a frown ,a tear, a laugh!
The innocence in a child.
The silence in the wind.
The music in the leaves.
The depth in the seas.
The silence in the winters.
The sun in the summers.
The tenderness in rain.
The sweetness in pain!

You, you are my imagination!
You are my reality!

मैं और तुम।

देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
रात के नज़ारे भी हैं, जगमगाते सितारे भी हैं।
हवाओं से बदलते अरमान भी हैं, सपनों का एक मुठ्ठी आसमान भी है।
उसकी नवाजी मुस्कान भी है, कहीं टूटता जहां भी है।
गमों का दरबार भी है, ये ज़िन्दगी गुलज़ार भी है।
देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
सेहर का रंग भी है, नई उमंग भी है।
राह में धूप की तपिश भी है, ठंडी छांव की कशिश भी है।
दिल को उनकी खवाहिश भी है, दर्द-ए-इश्क़ की नुमाइश भी है।
कुबूल दुआ होने का इंतज़ार भी है, इस पतझड़ में अजब सी बहार भी है।
देखो यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
हां तन्हाई भी है, रुसवाई भी है।
मैं तेरी चाहत भी हूं, हां तेरी राहत भी हूं।
तू मेरी इबादत भी है, हां मेरी आदत भी है।
ये इश्क़ सुकून भी है, हर लम्हा बढ़ता जुनून भी है।
देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।

– उजाला।

My little glass window

A little footstep on the fresh grass ground

Heading towards the unfolding of new leaf around

The dew drops shining pearly white

Or the blue sky adored with child’s red kite

Oh! I look around these colors so bright

Spreading boldly all over my sight

The eyes get mesmerized at one wide glance

Times and more how could you miss such a chance

Why this cage had to became my home to make me feel the freedom out there?

Why this gloom had to climb up to make me feel the smiles out there?

I ponder and ponder,

I look and look at the bounty outside, 

from my little glass window! 
Ujala

Stayed 

Chapter 1

Darkness consuming her, suddenly, a transformation took place from that darkroom into that small hole, that small dark but deep hole and the floor was vanishing. She fell! Oh, she was sinking into that depthless, bottomless well of darkness. There was no escape! No help! She wanted to cry, but couldn’t as if those cries were frozen inside, she was going down and down, she felt she will die. Suddenly her body reaches the ground, she is now in the land of nowhere she looked around, “where am I?” dark trees, not a single sign of leaves, loose mud covered with brown burnt grasses, no end of this. The heat so scorching as the heat of hundred suns, her blood was drying, her body was burning. She cried at the top of her lungs, but there was no one to hear her.

She got up to run, as she started running her feet suddenly jammed as if she was stuck, she made efforts to move but couldn’t. she was again sinking and sinking deep into that ground. The creepy scum was climbing up her bare body, she tried to shed it off but it grew up again it was like her whole soul was dipped in tar and there were no cleaning agents in this world. Her ears banging up with the noises, noises coming from far away, somewhere far. Noises of laughter, cries, tears, oh! It was killing her she shut her ears but of no uses those noises growing up louder. she yelled suddenly and with full efforts she woke up.

3.27 am the clock beside her bed showed she got up from the bed, her body was perspiring a lot, cold sweat all over her body. She went to the bathroom to wash her face, the cold water as it touched her, producing new sensation of reality of that night far away from that nightmare of hers. She came back and sat on that couch near that big glass window she glanced outside, nothing but a moonlit darkness she glanced at the stars.

It was again one of the dark nights she had witnessed before, nothing new but the pain the fear was still afresh still haunting her and bestowing her those sleepless nights. The pain was successful in drying up her tears, but could have no effect on the fears.

She slept on the couch, until Radhika’s call wake her up at 8.39 am.

At the glance of 8.40 am, “oh fish!” she yelled. She got up clutched the toothbrush, removed her shirt and direct into the shower. The first lecture was at 9.10 am, and she was late. She came back with her hair drenched and her cell phone continuously ringing with Radhika’s call.

8.55 am.

She took that only ironed, black shirt and blue jeans and a pair of clean socks from the cupboard and dressed up. She looked at the clock. 9.01 am. It took her at least ten minutes to reach the college. She was late. She took the hair dryer and started drying her hair in a subtle, quick manner. She took her handbag, grabbed a notebook and rushed. 

She put on the shoes and took a quick look at the round mirror near the door. She glanced at herself, small black eyes, and much smaller eyelashes, round face with her little nose, beige complexion. Those brown curls hanging up to her waist, little pearly water drops falling from those curls, her black shirt covering her curvy figure, her small lips which curved around to give that one-dimpled smiled she’d got. Obviously Neonika wasn’t an epitome of heavenly beauty but, Neonika was pretty in her own way. 

She locked the door and went downstairs. She crossed the road and waited for the bus and glanced at her mobile, 9.10 am and 11 missed rings – Radhu. Certainly, for the first class, it was her bunk. 

 She reached the college at 9.25, the next class was at 9.50 she went to the canteen grabbed a coffee and a sandwich. Her first lecture after the end term vacation. It was Neonika!

Pain

You don’t know pain until you are staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes filled with tears, telling yourself to hold back and be strong. 

That is pain. And the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt….       

 

Hi! Writing is like much more than just a hobby for me,  its the way I feel alive,  I breathe. And for this whole month of April its like my way of living, my breathes are taken away.  Its been almost four weeks since my last post here.  Things have changed so fast – moving into a new city,  adjusting to a whole different routine,  quite a mess.  


Right now I  am sitting in a dark room, 200  km  away from my home thinking about how last month went! I am away from home for a study course, when I came here, I was welcomed by a whole new lifestyle, full of things but lacking the time for my poor soul to breathe! Busy things,  I really don’t know how my day passes!  Its like dialy you wake up early, go to the  station to catch a train and watch it leave in front of your face! But how long can this separate me from my blog,  my poor soul is not even that poor, it can escape the buzzy bee life for sometime, to breathe.

Only because some scars have healed, doesn’t means that the pain has….

  Beauty of pain is that it makes everything beautiful. Music without pain, writing without pain, art without pain- its like a body without soul,  lifeless. 

I’m not talking about the physical mental pain or pressure but something you feel in your heart,  when its broken into pieces, the harder you try to collect them more it hurts. Pain doesn’t refer to any mental depression  but its something we all have experienced, both the stronger as well as weaker hearts. At some point of life whatever be the reason we have felt it.  

 Pain is not  what makes you feel miserable for a second and then you grab a cold beer and its gone! Pain is a memory that hurts – sometimes,  some places, some people, somethings, the moment you feel somewhere deep down in you has died. Most of  us like to bury it deep inside themselves. This not some mental health column or ways to recover your emotional pain and fears, its about how you feel,  and why you hide it.  Its for those who have this pain. Its not at all that I am telling you that things will never work out and you can never be happy. I am just exploring an emotion.  

Pain is commanding,  demands to be felt. The world says, you felt it in your heart (in the left corner ) but actually it hurts somewhere in the center,  middle of your chest,  so suffocating,  so merciless. The blunder of memories, emotions and outcomes- coming in you head, felt in your chest, heard in the room of your heart and seen in your eyes.  

  You know its like a wound, quite an old one you think its done, you have recovered,  you move on stronger, fight things face life everything good  but alone whenever  you touch it and it still  hurts, you see its still red.  It hurts you, may be not that bad as the first time but it does,  it hurts you. 

You hide it deep inside you, you fear world will mock at you, nothing wrong  about it ’cause it does. We live in a judgemental world, people judge us  and we judge others! If you laugh  then its show off and if you cry your a cry baby! 

Tears are often associated with weakness, we try to bury them deep inside.  But does shutting things inside do any good? Does the pain inside us ceases?   When people you trust upon doesn’t understand you, you’re pain grows.  

 Pain demands understanding, not sympathy. In times like this I don’t look for heavy words of sympathy all I want is one  shoulder to lean on and two ears to listen.

As i said we live in a judgemental world,  according to it the people who are crying and screaming are the only one in pain,  “so bad! “, ” Ah!  miserable” , “poor soul “. 

My tears can set one of the best example of honesty. So honest and loyal that they don’t dare to  come out without my permission…. 

Life is full of colors.  We all have some dark shades, covered deep inside hidden from rest. We can’t know everything about a person, harder we try little it is. The fact is we hurt others  and we get hurted,  attachments lead to expectations and expectations are not always fulfilled. 

We all are probably living in a big-big world,  we have fears, we hide our pain, we suffer in silence. But one thing we should remember.  Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. 

Letting go is hard but holding on is harder. 

Ujala.