BOOKS
Kitaabain
jhankti hain
band almari k sheeshoon se
bhari hasrat se takti hain
maheenon ab mulaqaatain nahi hoti
jo shamaain un ki suhbaat main katta karti thein
ab aksar guzar jati hain
computer k pardoon par
bari bay chain rehti hain kitaabain
inhain ab neend main chalnay ki aadat hogai hay
bari hasrat se takti hain
jo qadrain jo woh sunatein thein
k jin k sal kabhi martay nahi thay
woh qadrain ab nazar aati nahi ghar main
band almari k sheeshoon se
bhari hasrat se takti hain
maheenon ab mulaqaatain nahi hoti
jo shamaain un ki suhbaat main katta karti thein
ab aksar guzar jati hain
computer k pardoon par
bari bay chain rehti hain kitaabain
inhain ab neend main chalnay ki aadat hogai hay
bari hasrat se takti hain
jo qadrain jo woh sunatein thein
k jin k sal kabhi martay nahi thay
woh qadrain ab nazar aati nahi ghar main
jo rishtay woh sunati thein
woh saray udhrhay udhrhay hain
koi safha palat ta hoon to ik siski nikalti hay --------
kai lafzoon k mainee gir paray hain
bina patoon k sookhay dhund lagtay hain woh sab alfaaz
jin pe ab koi maani nahi hotay
bohat sii istalhain hain jo matti k sokorron ki tarah bikhri
pari hain
classon main unhain makri ka dala
zaban pe jo aata tha zaiqa safhay paltnay ka
ab ungli click karnay se aik jhapki guzarti hay
bohat sa teh ba teh khulta chala jata hay
kitaboon se jo zaati rabta tha
kat gaya hay
kabhi seenay par rakh kar lait jatay thay
kabhi goudi main laytay thay
kabhi guthnoon ko apnay rehal ki sorat bana kar
neem sajday main parha kartay thay
chotay thay jabeen se
Khuda nay chaha to woh sara ilm milta rahay ga
baad main bhi
magar woh jo kitaabon main mila kartay thay
sookhay phool ---------
kitabain mangnay
girnay uthanay k bahanay rishtay
bantay thay un ka kia hoga!!!??/!!!
woh shayad...... ab nahiin hoon gay!!
Kitaabain Jhankti Hain
They peer from beyond
Glasses of locked cupboards,
They stare longingly
For months we do not meet
The evenings once spent in their company
Now pass at the computer screen.
They are so restless now, these books-
They have taken to walking in their sleep
They stare longingly
The values they stood for
Whose batteries never died out
Those values are no more found in homes
The relationships they spoke of
Have all come undone today
A sigh escapes as I turn a page
The meanings of many words have fallen off
They appear like shrivelled, leafless stumps
Where meaning will grow no more
Many traditions lie scattered
Like the debris of earthen cups
Made obsolete by glass tumblers
Each turn of the page
Brought a new flavour to the tongue
Now a click of the finger
Floods the screen with images, layer upon layer
That bond with books that once was, is severed now
We used to sometimes lie with them on our chest
Or hold them in our lap
Or balance them on our knees,
Bowing our heads as in prayer
Of course the world of knowledge still lives on,
but what of
The pressed flowers and scented missives
Hidden between their pages,
And the love forged on the pretext
Of borrowing, dropping and picking up books together
What of them?
That perhaps shall no longer be!
Glasses of locked cupboards,
They stare longingly
For months we do not meet
The evenings once spent in their company
Now pass at the computer screen.
They are so restless now, these books-
They have taken to walking in their sleep
They stare longingly
The values they stood for
Whose batteries never died out
Those values are no more found in homes
The relationships they spoke of
Have all come undone today
A sigh escapes as I turn a page
The meanings of many words have fallen off
They appear like shrivelled, leafless stumps
Where meaning will grow no more
Many traditions lie scattered
Like the debris of earthen cups
Made obsolete by glass tumblers
Each turn of the page
Brought a new flavour to the tongue
Now a click of the finger
Floods the screen with images, layer upon layer
That bond with books that once was, is severed now
We used to sometimes lie with them on our chest
Or hold them in our lap
Or balance them on our knees,
Bowing our heads as in prayer
Of course the world of knowledge still lives on,
but what of
The pressed flowers and scented missives
Hidden between their pages,
And the love forged on the pretext
Of borrowing, dropping and picking up books together
What of them?
That perhaps shall no longer be!
