ગઝલ

સુખ વિશેની વ્યાખ્યા ગઝલમાં લખવામાં કલમ મરકી જાય છે
લાખ ટહુકા કોયલ કરે તો યે ચોમાસુ પણ ભટકી જાય છે

ખ્યાલ ભ્રામક છે..છતા ભરમાવું છું ગઝલમા મારી સદા
હું નથી પારંગત છતા યે મારી આ કલમ સરકી જાય છે

હોય છે સૂરજના ઘરે અંધારૂં એ સતત બોલ્યા તો કરૂં!!
કોઇ ઔરતને ચાંદની બોલી..તો ચાંદની ભડકી જાય છે

ના કળી,ના ખૂશ્બૂ..બગીચાની વાતો છતાં કાગળમા લખી
પ્રાસમાં અક્ષરોનું મરણ થાતા..તાજા ફુલો સળગી જાય છે

આ અઢી અક્ષરી પ્રેમના નામે કેવા અડપલા છે પ્રાસમાં
પ્રેમનાં નામે આ સમયની શાખે જિંદગી લટકી જાય છે

વારસાગત ના હો ખુમારી મારી..પણ ગઝ લખતા મે લખી
પ્યાસના નામે જિંદગી શાયરની..પ્રાસમા હરખી જાયછે

Story of a Soldier

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.

"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."
"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."
"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are. Thankfully , there's someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.

Finally,
Dont strew me with roses after i'm dead, when death claims the light of my brow, no flowers of life will cheer me - instead you may give me my roses now.. :)

ONE WORD

During my first interview in London

‘Describe yourself in one word’, she said, as she stared at me with a warm but pushy smile. I never understood the purpose of these exercises. Especially didn't understand why we all had to sit in a circle exposing ourselves to the judging and inquisitive eyes of each and every person in the group. Isn't that the exact opposite of why I came here? To disappear? To be invisible? Just a face?


I heard about this strange group from a friend of mine who studied theatre. It was a group where you could just show up with a fake name, a fake life, a fake personality but very real problems and discuss them with complete strangers. ‘No specifics’, the group was called. How apt. I was told about it several years ago, found it very odd and useless at the time but had stowed it away in my memory for some reason completely unknown to me. It wasn't until several weeks after yet another failed love that the foggy memory of this group started piecing itself together in my mind. And before I knew it I was in the basement of an annoyingly multi-coloured building on the corner of a street whose walls were covered with graffiti and posters of RnB and Hip-hop parties.

‘Sonu? One word?’ she said again, the warmth of her pushy smile now spreading to her voice. ‘Urm, Indian?’ I asked unsure of what to say. ‘Come on, you can do better than that.’ I can do better than that. Really? How would she know? She doesn't even know my real name. ‘Give it a go. Don’t think too much. Just say the first word that comes to mind.’ So completely uncharacteristically I closed my eyes and waited to hear an inner-voice telling me what I was in one word. And without so much as a second chance, before my mind had the time to register what I was about to say, before I could stop myself and think about the word that was about to spew from my lips and stick on the walls, spill on the floors, fly out of the open windows into the world from where I could never ever take it back... out it came... my one word... “Puppy.”

“Hmm, puppy. Interesting. Why do you think that word describes you best?” she asked.

I don’t know what it was about this moment, why I had such clarity and such a profound need to share it with these complete strangers, but I started talking and sharing things even I was unaware of.

“I guess it’s because I am. I am a pathetic little puppy. Always needing attention and love. Always needing to be taken care of. Always falling in love with every woman who shows me even a little bit of affection. Always desperately in love. Letting them own me, put hands around my neck and take me for a ride. Letting them claim me. I'm pathetic. A lonely little puppy.” Like a waterfall my tears and my words came cascading out of me. And my feelings came bouncing to the surface like a buoy that refused to stay underwater.

I don’t know how long I sat on that chair for sobbing away. It felt like a few seconds but I know it was much longer because I couldn't see the sunlight outside any more and I had goose bumps from the chill that was sneaking in through the half closed windows. But for however long it was, those nameless strangers were there for me. Loving me. Giving me a little bit of their time. Just like they would to a lonely stray puppy on the corner of a street.

Let me love you one day at a time

Let me love you one day at a time, and please love me that very same way. We may never learn all there is to know about love, but every day together will teach us a little more about ourselves and the special kind of happiness we can bring to each other. One of the best things you've helped me learn is that love starts with being honest, speaking straight from how we really feel. I like how we've opened doors, and windows of our lives and invited each other to come in, look around and get acquainted. The more I'm with you, the more at home I feel. Let me love you one day at a time.



Why talk about "always" and say things we're not sure we mean, when we can talk about today and mean exactly what we say. Let's think of each sunrise as a fresh start, a brand new beginning... and try to fill each day with as much love as it can hold. I know you're not always going to be exactly the same person Sunday through Saturday, January through December, and neither am I. We both need laughing times and crying times... and time for every mood in between. The important thing is that you can be the kind of you that feels most natural and that I can be my most favourite kind of me. That's what makes us so comfortable together... it's also what keeps us from taking too much for granted. Let me love you one day at a time.



Let's not wonder how long love will last but how beautiful we can make it grow. Let's give our best to each other but, let's never expect miracles of our love. There's no need to... the reality of you and me is better than all the impossible dreams and fantasies I've ever imagined. Being with you is feeling proud, blessed, grateful for each hour we share. Let me love you, not according to any how-to-book, or by someone else's set of rules... but simply for who you are and how you are with me. And please love me, not for what I might be moulded into, but for what I am here and now. Don't expect me to be someone all good and all giving, someone who could never disappoint you... someone to right to be real and too perfect to be me. I'm just as human as anyone I know... and very thankful that you are too. Let's try to remember that love means keeping in touch with each other's thoughts and feelings... listening not just to words, but to the emotions behind them... seeing, not just the smiles and frowns but the hurt and pleasures that cause them.



Let me love you one day at a time, starting today. Let's have the courage to try to change whatever needs changing about us, and wisdom to know what should never be changed. Believing in ourselves and in our ability to handle whatever tomorrow brings... and trusting that this love we share will continue to grow stronger as the future years unfold... One Beautiful Day At A Time.

LAUGHTER

She laughed a contrived, awkward laugh. She knew very well the difference between humour and scorn. She was trying to ignore the greasy smell of cynicism that wafted from his words. But her laughter, however untrue, only encouraged him. He jubilantly continued to mock her beliefs, her faith, her family, her life, everything she considered herself to be made of and she just swallowed her anger and pride and laughed. He felt powerful, like a bully pushing a child half his size to the ground and repeatedly kicking her in the chest while she shielded herself with her hands knowing that neither mercy nor refuge would ever come. Except he used his words to put her down and she used her laughter to protect herself. That was the only purpose her laughter had now. To protect her. She never used her lips to smile, never used them to kiss, hardly ever to eat and even less to speak. But laugh she did. The repercussions of silence in front of him were far too loud. His incessant screaming hurt her too much. They made the kind of scars that couldn't be seen, the kind that couldn't be used as proof. When on several occasions she had tried to share the invisible violence she faced, it only made everyone think she complained too much and that was even worse to bear than the abuse she got from him. So she stayed silent to the world and laughed only for him... The sad thing about pretending is that if you do it long enough, everybody will start believing you. The tragic thing about pretending is that if you do it long enough, even you will start believing yourself. She had played along for so long now that everyone, including herself, thought she was happy. So when they found her body swaying gently in her bedroom with one end of the rope around her neck and the other around her ceiling fan, they called it a tragedy... not murder. Just like I do, ending with small poem

When life seems low after you’ve given it your all and
when people you love don’t help you when you fall if they’re the reason you’re sad
and you fret baby, don’t let it get to you.
Don’t regret. you stand by them
when they need you that’s what makes you who you are if they choose to bail
when you’re just a little frail it’s a pity they don’t see right through you they’re unlucky and really stupid!
Its not fair they don’t cherish you Cause if they knew what a gold mine they had around them
They’d dig you just like I do!
All these boyfriends, lovers and men you got And I’m still here to take your tears away
Just now,

its from across the miles!

Its easy to joke on a Sardar, but It's too difficult to be a Sardar

I was standing at jalandhar station when my attention went towards a Sikh youth standing near me wearing a Black turban having a long beard and wearing a kirpan over his shirt.
.....<>
After a while, one local train arrived, which was totally packed. The Sikh youth tried to alight the train but failed to do
so. Just then a voice was heard from the back coach 'Sardarji Barah Baj gaye' (Sir it's 12 o'clock!)

The Sikh youth looked over at that voice maker who was a young Mischievous type of person and instead of showing any anger made a smile towards him.

The smile made was so enigmatic that it seemed as if some type of truth lies behind it. Not able to resist my temptation, I walked towards him and asked why did he smile at that person who teased him.

The Sikh youth replied, 'He was not teasing me but was asking for my Help'. I was surprised with these words and he told me that there was a big history behind that which one should know. I was eager to know the History and the Sikh youth narrated:

During 17th Century, when Hindustan was ruled by Mughals, all the Hindu people were humiliated and were treated like animals. Mughals treated the Hindu women as there own property and were forcing all Hindus to accept Islam and even used to kill the people if they were refusing to accept.That time, our ninth Guru, Sri Guru Teg Bahadarji came forward, in response to a request of some Kashmir Pandits to fight against all these cruel activities.

Guruji told the Mughal emperor that if he could succeed in converting him to Islam, all the Hindus would accept the same. But, if he failed, he should stop all those activities. The Mughal emperor happily agreed to that but even after lots of torture to Guruji and his fellow members he failed to convert him to Islam and Guruji along with his other four fellow members, were tortured and sacrificed their lives in Chandni Chowk. Since the Mughals were unable to convert them to Islam they were assassinated.

Thus Guruji sacrificed his life for the protection of Hindu religion.

Can anybody lay down his life and that too for the protection of another religion?
This is the reason he is still remembered as "Hind Ki Chaddar", shield of India. For the sake of whom he had sacrificed his life, none of them came forward to lift his body, fearing that they would also be assassinated.

Seeing this incident our 10th Guruji, Sri Guru Gobind Singhji (Son of Guru Teg Bahadarji) founder of khalsa made a resolution that he would convert his followers to such human beings who would not be able to hide themselves and could be easily located in thousands. At the start, the Sikhs were very few in numbers as they were fighting against the Mughal emperors. At that time, Nadir Shah raided Delhi in the year 1739 and looted Hindustan and was carrying lot of Hindustan treasures and nearly 2200 Hindu women along with him. The news spread like a fire and was heard by Sardar Jassa Singh who was the Commander of the Sikh army at that time. He decided to attack Nadir Shah's Kafila on the same midnight. He did so and rescued all the Hindu women and they were safely sent to their homes.

It didn't happen only once but thereafter whenever any Abdaalis or Iranis had attacked and looted Hindustan and were trying to carry the treasures and Hindu women along with them for selling them in Abdal markets, the Sikh army although fewer in numbers but were brave hearted and attacked them at midnight, 12 O'clock and rescued women.

After that time when there occurred a similar incidence, people started to contact the Sikh army for their help and Sikhs used to attack the raider's at Midnight, 12 O'clock. Nowadays, these "smart people" and some Sikh enemies who are afraid of Sikhs, have spread these words that at 12 O'clock, the Sikhs go out of their senses. This historic fact was the reason which made me smile over that person as I thought that his Mother or Sister would be in trouble and wants my help and was reminding me by saying off 'Sardarji Barah Baj Gaye'.

do forward this message to all ur friends so they can know about sikh history & its a humble appeal... sikh DHARAM WARGA KOI DHARAM NAHI TE NAHI HONA AA...

PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE

Bits and pieces of a long gone past
Taped together somehow.
Floating into an unknown future
Did I ever exist in the now?

Akin spirits lost just like me
Forming what I call my life.
Slaves of routine, aimlessness
Marching to the fife.

What am I then, if I don’t live in the present?
Waiting for each moment to be gone?
Waking up to find that my life’s lost and over
Passing over dejected and forlorn.

Sometimes I wonder what I’ve been doing
How did I end up here?
From a carefree child to a complicated adult
I soared so fast it’s a blur.

If only I could unscrew my mind!
Open it to move things around!
Figure out how that damn thing works,
So I can retrace how I got to my now.

“Don’t live in the past, don’t fret over the future
Live each moment as it comes!”
Whoever said that is either very happy
Or to the sadness has already succumbed.


Because I try my best, to do my best.
But the past somehow catches up with me.
Leaving me stressed,
Completely depressed,
Until I can no more believe.

I have these moments when I’m happy and smiling,
What the world seems to know me by.
Fooling them all! And sometimes myself
Locking up what’s really inside.

That’s how I interact and communicate with others.
With a barrier that I cant seem to break.
But I’m trying, and this writing is an attempt,
To destroy in me all that is fake.