Somewhere between an old radio song, a cold vanilla latte, and emotional unemployment, I wrote (blows raspberries) THIS?!
*insert debating one’s own sanity [poet really only means the curtains are blue]
You know those people who leave so quietly that even silence starts sounding like them after a point? Excruciating enough that some nights, memory shows up disguised as curiosity and suddenly I’m three hours deep into old interviews, reddit fanclubs (wtf is even that?!), blurry photographs, and strangers loving/hating someone like they discovered them first. And somehow, against all logic, one might still end up offended… as if the world was supposed to know that your silence around them was sacred.
Anyway, here's barely something, give it a go.
**
Haal se muhaal mera, bedardi hi sahi,
magar tere baghair mera koi wajood hi nahin.
Nadani se hi sahi, hui aqsar teri hi (kyu??!) fiqr -
Subah ke suhoor aur shaam ki pyaali
karte tera hi ziqr..
Kaash iss khatt mein
tujhe apni jhalak dikh jaaye,
aur durdast kisi gaane mein
chupke se tu ek elaan sun paaye…
Tu bass ghairmaujood yahin,
lekin bavajood tere,
main maujood kahin bhi toh nahin.
Laazmi hi ye silsila-e-hijr-e-naseeb;
mujhe samjhe tu -
hum kabhi aaye hi nahin itne qareeb.
Khair…
Tu phir bhi ghairmaujood yahin.
Gustaakhi maaf lekin,
tere bavajood
main maujood kahin bhi toh nahin, kahin bhi toh nahin…
Until next time,
S


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