रंजिश ही सही..

There are some songs that cause you to pause, listen intently and to embrace. These are the songs that bring a tear to your eye, not because of their sadness, but because of the strong emotional resonance they evoke. Ranjish Hi Sahi, written by Ahmed Faraz and sung by Mehdi Hassan is one such Ghazal.

Music rises above all, be it religion, beliefs or borders, as does our affection for it. Mehdi Hassan was a great musician par excellence. His voice had a wonderful quality, and a uniqueness of its own.The beauty of his Ghazals is that one never tires of them. In fact, the more I hear them, the more they cast this hypnotic spell over me.

Today, as I sit and hear his Ghazal, his magical voice enchants and intoxicates me... gliding effortlessly over my senses, as my heart stays spellbound…experiencing a myriad of emotions from this level to that, like a flower bud that unravels and unfolds gently, layer after layer into a bloom....

रंजिश ही सही दिल ही दुखाने के लिए आ

आ फिर से मुझे छोड़ के जाने के लिये आ

अब तक दिल-ए-खुशफ़हम को हैं तुझ से उम्मीदें

ये आखिरी शम्में भी बुझाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

इक उम्र से हूँ लज्ज़त-ए-गिरया से भी महरूम

ऐ राहत-ए-जां मुझको रुलाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

कुछ तो मेरे पिन्दार-ए-मोहब्बत का भरम रख

तू भी तो कभी मुझ को मनाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

माना के मोहब्बत का छुपाना है मोहब्बत

चुपके से किसी रोज़ जताने के लिए आ

रंजिश ही सही...

जैसे तुम्हें आते हैं ना आने के बहाने

ऐसे ही किसी रोज़ न जाने के लिए आ

रंजिश ही सही...

पहले से मरासिम ना सही फिर भी कभी तो

रस्म-ओ-रहे दुनिया ही निभाने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

किस किस को बताएँगे जुदाई का सबब हम

तू मुझ से खफा है तो ज़माने के लिये आ

रंजिश ही सही...

Simple Joys of Life

Early morning is my very own unique, calm time. Hubby and I are both early risers. For us, it is the time when we enjoy our first cup of tea while the world outside dozes.

This first cup of tea is made by hubby, always. For us, it is not just about making tea but it is a ritual. It is the best part of the day for us, the time when we get to spend a half hour of quality time together before the chaos of life takes over. This special time makes a difference and gives us both that positive kick we all need, to get through the day.

The whole process of making that first cup of tea, though it may seem a simple act to some, is awesome for us. That faint sound of the brewing tea, the freshly ground ginger that he adds to it, the heavenly smell, the warming of my hands on that cup, and finally the hot tea soothing my throat accompanied by soft quiet conversation is an experience in itself. And yes, there are times when we don’t need the conversations too. After 32 years of togetherness we are perfectly tuned to each other’s silence and comfortable with it. Just the joy of sharing that half hour together over tea is important for us.

For me, this first cup of tea is a time to reflect. It is a patience, a meditation and a celebration.

déjà vu

Sometimes we visit certain places we have never been to in our life, and yet we get this nagging feeling that we have been there before. We remember certain routes or turns, doors or windows or other details and it leaves us feeling anxious, nervous, uneasy or at times as if we belong there.

I think that perhaps once a person dies he or she is reborn as new person. God wipes out our memory so we know only of our present life. Sometimes I get such a strong sense of familiarity or déjà vu  that it makes me think that maybe it's a memory of a past life that God forgot to erase and it's seeping in through the cracks.

There have been certain places where the feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed me.  A sensation that this has happened before overpowered me in its realness. Though at the time I wasn't prepared to mull over any genuine philosophical or profound meanings, now I feel that maybe it wasn't just my brain playing games on me but my spirit or soul recalling from a past life.

Sometimes I wake up from sleep with a deep sense of longing. An obscure, undefined sense of longing. I find myself wishing I could go home, and an unknown sadness fills me knowing that I'm longing for a place that does not exist. But somehow I know it is real, it is where I belong, but where exactly is that home or place ? I already have a beautiful home be it my parents place or my hubby’s. I have had a wonderful childhood and a good life for which I am eternally grateful, and yet in my subconscious is that unknown place.

All my life I've felt as though there was something more, a bigger picture, something humanity just wasn't understanding. I wish we could dig up our past lives from the vast unexplored regions of our mind.

Simple Definition of déjà vu by Merriam-Webster
"The feeling that you have already experienced something that is actually happening for the first time, something that has happened many times before, something that is very familiar.
The illusion of remembering scenes and events when experienced for the first time, a feeling that one has seen or heard something before."

The Agony of Saas Bahu Sagas

I know I have written about this before but I could not resist doing so again.

There was a time when one could turn on the TV and enjoy a good show like Waghle Ki Duniya, Malgudi Days, Nukkad and the likes, alas, people like Ekta Kapoor have ruined the fundamentals of TV viewing.

TV shows these days are so far away from reality. I have nothing against family dramas but at least there should be something one could relate to. They are so disconnected to reality. There are joint families living in houses so big they would put Ambani’s Antillia to shame. Moreover, most of these places are named “Shanti Niwas” and yet they are the least peaceful places on earth.

All the men are billionaires and yet one never sees them working (or taking any family decisions for that matter. That part is left entirely to ladies). The rare times they do go to office is to call a meeting and give power point presentations (yes trust me they will discuss ALL projects on PPTs). These successful businessmen can be duped easily by a rival in which case they lose all their money, property etc etc and with the help of their womenfolk regain them back eventually.

It is mandatory for either the mother-in-law or the daughter-in-law to be evil. If the mother-in-law is evil, her daughter, son-in-law, brother and sister will live with her and assist her in all the plotting. If the daughter-in-law is the villain then her mother, brother, sister etc. will live with her and do the same. I guess they have more rooms in their house than The Taj Hotel.

The lead characters will marry more than once and have children from more than one partner. The families will be deeply religious and light “diyas” morning and evening each day. If god forbid one day the diya extinguishes, the husband is hospitalised or will be no more. But one need not worry, eventually those who pass away do come back with a new face, a different height, weight, complexion and voice (I guess plastic surgery can do more wonders than I knew of). Of course, those who don’t die may suffer from amnesia or coma or some such medical condition. Bottom line is they DO comeback and NOONE really ever dies (beats The Walking Dead doesn't it ?).

When you are absolutely sure the show has covered it all and has nothing new to show, there will be a leap of 10-20 year. The characters will still look the same in appearance, and the only way to distinguish between the older and the younger generation will be the spectacles. Henceforth, the whole drama will begin all over again.

And lately, the “daayans”, the “pisaachinees”and the “nagins”have entered the whole saas-bahu saga. You have a lead female character turn into a fly, another fighting the “kaali shaktis”with taaveez, trishool, bhasms etc. and people visiting tantriks frequently for this or that.

I sit and wonder, where is the likeability factor in such shows ? I honestly don’t believe any person with a logical mind would want to see such stuff. These shows cater to people who cannot use their time effectively (yes I’m aware of the brickbats coming my way).

Spider Webs

Memories

Are like spider webs

Delicate, fine strands

All interlinked…

For every strand

You break away

A few more remain

Linking to the part

You are out to destroy…

Never to be erased

They remain hidden

Dormant

Like a spider web

That hangs

In a forgotten corner

Of your mind and heart

Waiting patiently

To be called forth

Or to come out

In the form of 

A flood of emotions

Unleashed, unexpectedly

On an unsuspecting

Heart and soul

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Bonfire

Frozen winter nights

Warming my hands

Memories burnt

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Eternal Love

Caressing tenderly, lovingly

He shares the highlights of his day

Sitting by his wife’s grave

© Copyright Renu Vyas

बाजरे के खेतों में...

रात कट जायेगी तो कैसे दिन बिताएंगे 

बाजरे के खेतों में कौवे उड़ायेंगे....

थोड़ी सी ज़मीं थोड़ा आसमां 

तिनकों का बस एक आशियाँ ....

Connecting with nature...bliss :)

My Little Piyu

I wrote this poem for my grandchild Avni (Piyu). She is a gift from the heavens above, a perfect example of God's true love.

A pretty cute little angel

Came from the heavens above

brought abundance of happiness

And filled my heart with Love

Her parents named her Avni

But for me she is my little Piyu

Her innocent sweet looks charm me

She is as pure as the morning dew

Her beautiful smile warms my heart

As do those mesmerizing eyes

God sent her to be cherished and loved

She is a blessing in disguise

I cuddle and hold her in my arms

In awe I touch and tickle her toes

Her sweet baby smell overwhelms me

As I gently touch her cute little nose

She is my very own sunshine

That lights up my nights and days

As I rock her gently on my knees

She looks up in her endearing ways

Looking down at her I know this much

Her life and mine has just begun

So much I have to share with her

She’s a part of me, my little one

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Books

Stories and books

Are like passages and doors

That take me to places

I have never been before

Each one makes me wonder

What adventure in it awaits

Between the two covers

I step through its golden gates 

Some characters along the way

Become my new friends

I travel with them

On different paths and bends

 Some of them captivate me

With their rhythm and rhyme

They make me experience

Wonderful magical times

Some make my heart heavy

And bring tears to my eyes

And yet they teach a lesson

That makes me more wise

As I travel through the pages

There is so much that I find

Beautiful worlds and places

And people of all kinds

In between the two covers

 I often curl up and hide

As I journey to exotic lands

Far out and wide

To some people a book maybe

Just pages and nothing grand

But to me it always is

That very special friend

So stories and books

Are like passages and doors

That take me to places

I have never been before

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Solitude and Silence

Sometimes, all the hustle and bustle of the world makes my head spin. The constant noise, people all around being part of the rat race to be at the top, the constant fear of others judging you or indulging in the niceties and etiquette set by the society.

It is at times like this when I like to slow everything down, shut everything off, and be alone with just my thoughts. I'm becoming a bit of a hermit lately. I love my solitude and I enjoy my own company. It is like living inside my head and I have to force myself to go outside.

It is not as if I do not enjoy company. I do. But I have never been very good at pretenses. I find it absurd when people adopt fake personalities and pretend to be who they are just to be liked or be appreciated more. How long can one keep up the pretense ? Sooner or later people will realize your truth.

And yes I am hopeless at small talk. I enjoy an honest intelligent conversation but I simply cannot make mindless small talk and it annoys me when I am forced to do so just because social customs dictate I should. Most people that I know are uncomfortable with silence. They need noise, or words to fill in the silence. The small talks, the random talks, the this-or-that-talks, they do not understand or appreciate the beauty of silence.

I feel that spending time with yourself in solitude, reflecting on all the things that really matter to you, enjoying your own company minus the noise, and the luxury of not being judged or defined by another is precious. It refreshes, nourishes and helps one's mental, physical and spiritual growth.

Dhoondoge Agar Mulkon Mulkon

Dhoondo Ge Agar Mulkon Mulkon. A beautiful Ghazal by Shaad Azeemabadi and sung by Abida Parveen. The words leave me speechless every time I hear it. The more I listen to this piece of art the more I fall in love with it. I am not sure whether this song can be categorized as a Sufi Song or a Ghazal, but there is no doubt in my mind about the Spirituality in the Song and the Lyrics.

It is the call of a lover to his beloved to join him, and eventually, the acceptance of a life without the loved one... and yet, he rejoices his love even in this estrangement. To be in such a state of mind is to experience the ultimate and purest state of love.

"Hum Mein Hain Dil-E-Betaab Nihan....Yah Aap Dil-E-Betaab Hain Hum"
Is a restless heart embeddded inside me or am I the restless heart itself..?

"Lakhon Hi Musafir Chalte Hain...Manzil tak pohunchte Hain Do Ik"
Millions of travelers walk this path..only a handful reach their destinations..

Aa Jao Jo Tum Ko Aana Ho....Aise Mein Abhi Shadaab Hain Hum"
Join me if you wish to.. I am in bliss and in peace with myself and one with the universe..

Each line a gem..posting the complete lyrics below for those who are interested :)

Dhoondo Ge Agar Mulkon Mulkon

Milne Ke Nahin Nayaab Hain Hum

Tabeer Hai Jiski Hasrat-0-Gham

Aye Humnafaso Woh Khwaab Hain Hum

Aye Dard Bata Kuch Tu Hi Pata

Ab Tak Yeh Mu’ammya Hal Na Hua

Hum Mein Hain Dil-E-Betaab Nihan

Ya Aap Dil-E-Betaab Hain Hum

Main Hairat-O-Hasrat Ka Maara

Khamosh Khada Hoon Sahil Par

Dariya-E-Mohabbat Kehta Hai

“Aa Kuch Bhi Nahin Payaab Hain Hum”

Lakhon Hi Musafir Chalte Hain

Manzil tak pohunchte Hain Do Ik

Aye Ahl-E-Zamana Qadr Karo

Nayaab Na Hon Kamyaab Hain Hum

Murghan-E-Qafas Ko Phoolon Ne

Aye Shaad Ye Kahla Bheja Hai

Aa Jao Jo Tum Ko Aana Ho

Aise Mein Abhi Shadaab Hain Hum

Words

Words are my enemies

And words are my friends

They give release to my thoughts

And they set down new trends

Sometimes they come easily to me

And sometimes they don’t 

At time they flow in rhyme and rhythm

And other times they just wont 

Some words can be cruel

Hurting more than a wound or scar

They make home in my mind and heart

Refusing to leave or stray far

Some words are loving and gentle

Giving warmth and happiness to my heart

They fill me with new hopes and dreams

And encourage me to a new start

Some words turn into metaphors

Giving new meaning to my thoughts

While others thrill and excite me

Creating fabulous stories, poems and plots

I dread the days words leave me

And I suffer from the writer’s block

I cajole, coerce, and plead with them

While in my blank mind they hide and mock

Laiyan Laiyan Mein Tere Naal Dholna

There are moments when we hear a song and it touches our heart. Laiyan laiyan song sung by Rizwan Anwar is one such song. The simplicity of the lyrics,  the soft soothing music, and the way the singer has sung it is all so beautiful.

The music does something to the heart, brings up emotions in an intense and beautiful way. It is filled with that sweet kind of longing that we all need to feel once in a while..

Laiyan laiyaaan main tere naal dholna

 Ik dil si ve rea mere kol na

Ve main lutti gayi

Dholna ve main lutti gayi

 Sadran de boohe ve main tere layi khole

Howin na tu kadi hun akhian to ohle

Tere naal tarna , tere naal dubna

Tere naal jeena , tere naal marna

Pyar mera tu takri ch tol na

 Ik dil c reha , mere kol na

Ve main lutti gayi

Dholna ve main lutti gayi

Perfection

The perfect poem

Is always, in my mind

The next one

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Off-season Memories

Old memories resurface

Like beautiful flowers

That blossom off-season

© Copyright Renu Vyas

I Am A River

Sometimes I flow smoothly

Tranquil, Gentle and kind

Spreading happiness around me

Leaving smiling faces behind

I flow with grace and charm

Making barren lands fertile

The children play by my banks

The tired sit and rest awhile

The poets gaze at my beauty

And write songs praising me

The lovers talk of my passion

To meet the vast blue sea

And yet at times I am restless

I flow in great fury and rage

Crushing all that comes in my path

Refusing to be stopped or caged

I pound at all that comes my way

I smash huge stones and rocks

In anger I flood cities and homes

I break down all that blocks

I create to destroy and destroy to create

For that is the role nature allotted me

I play out my role with all honesty

Until I reach the beloved sea

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Dream Weaving

 

Each night

The moon comes alive

Together he and I

Weave dreams

From the threads

Of my memories

And strands

Of my sleep

And each dawn

It fades and dies

Leaving behind

Unfinished 

Tangled knots

Of incomplete dreams

That linger all day

 In my eyes

Until the next night

When we both start 

All over again

This never ending game

Of birth and death

And senseless

Dream weaving… 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Because I Am

I carved a niche for myself
And worked hard day and night
In the hope of being acknowledged
And to reach out to new heights

All I craved was appreciation
And a little bit of praise
But I forgot I lived in a man’s world
Where for me there was no space

I reached out to all around me
Seeking approval and some joy
But I was constantly overlooked
My hopes crushed and destroyed

The men would not applaud me
Nor would they ever recognize
“Her place is at home in the kitchen”
They wished I would realize

The women remained indifferent
And more misery to me they brought
“How dare she do what we could not?”
They fumed inside and thought

So I remained largely unnoticed
But I knew one day I would shine
My worth I will prove to one and all
And my identity I will define

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Street Child

Tattered clothes and a bruised face

And looking oh so lost and wild

Orphaned and abandoned by all

He is called merely a street child

He stands all day at the traffic signal

Running from this car window to that

Begging for a glance and a few coins

His small hands outwards spread

Most people shut their ears to his pleas

And others simply avert their eyes

 They sit in those air conditioned cars

That remain symbols of their pride

They do not take in his appearance

Nor hear his futile desperate cries

To avoid him they speed up and leave

Failing to notice his fear and fright

They speed up to warm meals at home

While he begs for little crumbs

No refuge, and without a shelter

He sleeps on footpaths and in slums

He wonders quietly why he got this life

Where he is treated like a rabid dog

Ignored, leading a loveless existence

Feeling like he is the society’s rot

So next time you’re at a traffic signal

Please do give him a tender glance

All he needs is a little love and help

And at life, just another chance

Trust me, just a little help and love

Will for him go a long long way

And that small smile on his face

Will definitely make your day

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Behind Closed Doors

Behind every closed door

Could be a story waiting to unfold

Of sighs that remained unheard

And words rarely spoken or told

There could be moments of laughter

And maybe many secrets kept

Fears, lies, happiness and smiles

And some tears silently wept 

Some people could have lived here

And lead awesome, amazing lives

Or maybe it was just a dismal place

That was full of sadness and cries

Whenever I gaze at a closed door

So much does my imagination see

I wonder if there’s a lost soul inside

Reaching out with its story for me

So yes, behind every closed door

Could be a story waiting to be told

All it needs is someone to unlock it

And to share, relive it, and unfold

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Never Judge A Book By Its Cover

Never judge a book

Merely by its cover

For you never know what inside it

You might just discover

The cover may look

Old and sometimes worn

The pages may have yellowed

And sometimes maybe torn

But many untold stories

The book may in it hold

That never have been heard

Nor ever before told

There may be characters

That become your friends

Who will stay with you

Forever till the end

There may be great plots

That keep you mesmerized

Captivating your heart

New emotions may arise

Treat it with respect

And give it a fair chance

Don’t judge it by its looks

Or make opinions in advance

Remember that the words 

Are a writer’s sincere attempt

Do not be so harsh

As to treat it with contempt

So never judge a book

Merely by its cover

For you never know what inside it

You might just discover

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tissue Paper Society

Those old loved landmarks

Each with a memory attached

 All bulldozed and replaced

By new impersonal structures

Those small winding roads 

Where we once took long walks 

On warm summer nights

Are now four lane highways

Those pretty small shops

Filled with colorful knick knacks

That we often browsed through

Replaced with city malls

Those friends we depended on

Now strangers we cannot connect with

Stuck in the games of social status

Wary, distant, cloaked in formalities

Those relationships that were

The roots of our existence

 Now discard us, only to replace

With newer ones that change day/night

Welcome to this new 

Weird, Unemotional

Disposable, use and throw 

Tissue paper society

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Rag Picker

He silently walks the streets at night

With a slightly hunched back

And stops near every garbage pile

With his dirty old tattered sack

Potato peels he pushes aside

Dry flowers he does not need

He comes across a limp dry carrot

On which his child can feed

He sees some plastic bottles

And a couple of polythene bags

He quietly picks and stores them

Along with a few soiled rags

The street dogs bark and chase him

He flees so scared and lost

Until he comes to another dump

Where he once again quietly stops

This hunt goes on all night long

As he roams alleys and dumping sites

Calmly accepting his lifestyle

Along with his sorry state and plight

He remains on the periphery of our world

And struggles each night to survive

Forever remains unnoticed by all

Leading a rag picker’s life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Evergreen Tree

My love is like 

An evergreen tree

Whatever the current

Season may be

The harshest of winters

Or scorching summers

The raw autumns

Or the lovely springs

It adapts, overcomes

And survives them all

It flourishes, grows

And stands forever tall

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Magical Night Sounds

I love the distant sound of trains. It takes me back in time. I remember the summer nights at my in-laws place in my hometown. Mine was a joint family and I remember how every night we would all sleep on the roof top. I loved sleeping on the rooftop. The cool breeze, the night sounds and the gazing at the stars..

Nights have sounds of their own, that distant sound of a horn, crickets chirping, the whistle of a train, the random bark of a stray dog, and yes, the hushed whispers of the neighbours. But most of all, I loved the sound of the late night train. There was something magical about that sound. Romantic and nostalgic.

I would lie there and wonder where the train was going, who all would be on it, I would imagine reunions and partings. Tears and laughter.  Each night I would lose myself in a different story that my mind would come up with. For me, It represented a romantic vision of the unknown.

Even today, when I hear the sound of a distant whistle of a train, It brings a smile to my face. The sound, the vibrations, it is all so reminiscent of a wonderful past..

Nostalgia

Sometimes, the mere smell of a perfume, or the scent of a certain flower, or hearing an old song, or passing by certain places, or seeing an old photograph makes the mind pause, stop and wander down memory lane..

I have always been an extremely sentimental person. There are certain things I’m very attached to,   little mementos from my past that I can never dream of parting with. They may not have any monetary value and they would probably look like worthless junk to other people, but for me they are precious and represent the times that were.

I do understand that not all memories are good ones but as the years go by the bad ones lose their negative aspects and get distorted and hazy while the good ones get even more glorified than what the reality was..but regardless of that, the warm fondness for that era remains an important part of my life.

I have been feeling especially nostalgic lately. I often think back to the days that were and find comfort in those thoughts. Hearing songs from the 60s and 70s is now a reminder of people, places and emotional attachments. Some might laugh or be embarrassed by talking about their past or recalling the days gone by, but for me the past represents the simpler times, it made me who I am today. Each moment a lesson.

I love the feeling of nostalgia. This mixture of happiness and sadness. The whiff of a perfume, a glide of the fingertips across some item, a lovely soulful song, or a faded picture can invoke such strong memories that come flooding back. .all coupled with the strong desire and the aching in the heart to return to that time in the past..

Aah..nostalgia..

Downpour Of Memories

Word after word

Pages get drenched

Downpour of memories

© Copyright Renu Vyas

मुखौटे

आदत पड़ गयी है सबको 

मुखौटों में रहने की 

असली चेहरा दिख जाए 

तो लोग बुरा मान जाते हैं...

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Let Some Wishes Remain Unfulfilled

Why do people always send greetings with the words "I hope all your dreams come true" ? For some reason I find it weird..

Yes, it is always a pleasant feeling when wishes are fulfilled..but If all wishes were fulfilled and all dreams came true , where would be the reason to look forward to anything ? Would I be happy if all my wishes and dreams came true ? Probably not..I would not have anything more to live for.

Let some wishes remain unfulfilled..Gulzar Sahab said it well..

कतरा कतरा मिलती है 

कतरा कतरा जीने दो 

जिंदगी है, बहने दो

प्यासी हूँ मैं, प्यासी रहने दो..

A Date With Myself

A quiet evening at home.

It's getting harder and harder to find solitude these days. Earlier, one could take a walk in the countryside, enjoy being one with the nature, but now, the countryside is getting smaller and smaller as the concrete world gets bigger and bigger.

I do enjoy the city and its energy, but at times I feel claustrophobic..as if the humanity is pressing in on me. The need to indulge in and enjoy the fullness of my own presence, the luxury of being with my own thoughts overwhelms me..and today was one such day.

Just me, my solitude and the thumri "Yaad piya ki aaye...ye dukh saha na jaye..haye ram".

The soulfulness of this thumri touches the most inner chords of my soul and gives me a feeling of eternal solace.

On Babas, Babies and Bachhas

After a long long time I log on to Yahoo Messenger, I see a friend online and decide to catch up with her. I ask her how she and how her family is.

Her: We are fine but you know my Baba has to work so much in office these days. Two of his colleagues are on leave and he has to do their share of the work too..Everyday he comes home so tired and it worries me. My poor bachha..

Me: Yeah..I can understand..we moms do get worried when we see our children tired and all..

Her: Children ?? No no..I am talking about my husband !

Me: Oh..(wondering why a wife would call her husband her "bachha")

Same evening I see her husband come online.

Me: You wife was very worried about you

Him: My baby worries too much.

Me: Oh..even the child worries..that's so sweet..

Him: No I'm talking about my wife

Me: (stumped !!)

यादें

मन के आईने पर 

जमी तुम्हारी यादों की धुंध को 

अकसर साफ़ कर लेती हूं मैं 

इस उम्मीद में 

कि कुछ मन भी उजला हो जाए 

और कुछ तुम भी साफ़ नज़र आओ 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Uniqueness Of Self

When life overwhelms me

I retreat in myself

To that quiet place inside me

Where I can listen

 To the comfortable silence

And enjoy 

The special relationship

That I share with myself

As my mind and body

Experience 

The inner alchemy

Of self change

And my mind introspects

And revels

In the uniqueness

Of my existence

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Unrequited

Sometimes

To maintain the equilibrium

Of life

And for the sake

Of convenience

It is good

To let some things

Remain unrequited

© Copyright Renu Vyas

मैं एक क़ायनात

मैं माँ की ममता भरी मूरत हूँ 

मैं हूँ बहिन का निःस्वार्थ प्यार 

मैं प्रेमिका की शरारत हूँ 

मैं बेटी का स्नेह और दुलार 

कभी मैं चुपचाप सहने वाली 

कभी हूँ काली का रूप 

कभी पार्वती सी पूजी जाती 

कभी लक्ष्मी का स्वरूप  

कभी ना समझो वो रहस्य हूँ 

कभी सीधी साधी बात 

कभी नदी के चंचल वेग सी 

कभी झील सी गहरी व शान्त 

चंद शब्दों में ना वर्णन हो मेरा 

शब्द भी मेरे लिए हैं अपर्याप्त 

कितने क़िरदार बसते हैं मुझमें  

मैं स्वयं में हूं पूरी क़ायनात 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The Disillusioned Youth

They live in a make believe world

That has no bearing on reality

And remain trapped in a false life

That is far from practicalities

Peace and love are alien to them

They speak the language of hate

They neither hear logic nor reason

With guns they communicate 

They erase the fine line that depicts

What is wrong and what is right

Their life is full of darkness

And they shun out any form of light

They talk of happiness and freedom

And they scream of it and shout

But in reality they are disillusioned

For they know not what it’s all about

They turn to drugs in hard times

And suffer from low self-esteem

Chaos reigns high in their life

Their true self becomes hard to redeem

They walk the path of ignorance

And they make ample mistakes

That however much they may try later

Will become harder to erase

 There will someday come a time

When they’ll wake up and realize

That all their ideals were false

And this was no way to lead their life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

भूला हुआ सा "हम"

"तुम" और "मैं" 

के अहंकार की जंग में 

घायल, गुमसुम

भूला हुआ सा एक "हम"..

© Copyright Renu Vyas

अंधेरे

नींद ने मुझसे बेरुख़ी कर ली 

ख़्वाब भी मेरे आजकल नम है 

दोस्त मिला कर मुझसे अंधेरों में कहीं 

सूरज से मेरी अब तो दोस्ती कम है....

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Pyre Of Memories

Smoldering ashes

Turn to raging fire

Pyre of memories

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Imperfectly Perfect

Recently a friend talked to me about how she had joined a gym as well as a cooking class that specified baking cakes. Why this sudden fascination with cakes I asked ? I know for a fact that she dislikes cakes. Her reply was that other women from some group that she was a part of were always discussing/baking cakes and how she always felt left out and stupid. And the weight issue was due to her children mentioning how so and so aunty always looked and dressed so well.

My friend’s need for perfection and other people’s approval made me think..why do people want to be perfect ? To me, imperfection is beautiful. I truly believe that it is our flaws that make us interesting. It is the little differences between us - our quirks and idiosyncrasies that make us curious about each other and therefore connect. Imperfection brings a certain reality and humanness in us.

Why would I want to be the same as everyone else ? I've never understood the need to fit in with groups, follow popular fashions or to do what everyone else is doing. I like to be my own person, I may not be perfect in some people's eyes, but if I'm happy with me, then that's good enough. Every person is beautiful in their own being. No one else is like them. They are unique but not perfect.

No one is perfect. There is no such thing as a perfect person, if there was then things would not last. Yes we have our "perfect moments" and even those may not be perfect in another’s eyes.

Imperfection represents freedom of choice and living and thinking outside of the box, of making mistakes and learning from them. It represents growth. There is beauty in loving and reveling in the uniqueness of imperfection.

Symmetry and balance can be beautiful and fascinating for sure but so can asymmetry and imbalance. It is the little imperfections which often represent adaptation and change , evolution and development, without which we would all stand still and stagnate.

Everyone has a different perception and this is what makes the beauty of imperfection so unique.

Writer's Block

I overcome my writer's block

By convincing my pen

That it would come closer to you

With each poem that ends

© Copyright Renu Vyas

ख़ामोशी

आँखों में है सूनापन 

दिल में बस वीराना है

लबों पे है ख़ामोशी

मन में एक सन्नाटा है   

न जाने वो कौन शख़्स था 

जो जाते जाते मेरे ख़याल ले गया 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Symbiotic

He was

Like a never ending storm

That churned 

In her thoughts

Raging  

Crashing down

All the protective walls

Of her reserves

And sanity

She was

Like the calm that comes

After the storm

Waiting

Quietly, patiently

Knowing

That at the end 

Of every storm

Appears a rainbow

That adorns, enriches

And beautifies life

And yet neither could do

Without the other

© Copyright Renu Vyas

The India That I Miss

As I grow old, more and more my mind wanders back to my childhood memories. Small things that we took for granted are no more and my heart yearns for the life that was..
Listing a few things from my India in the 70s and 80s that I miss.

Aerograms or हवाई पत्र
Yes, there was a time when every family kept a stock of aerograms to communicate with other family members living in other cities or abroad. The struggle to write down all the details in that limited space had a charm of its own..the birth of a child, the passing away of a distant relative, the exam results of children, the job promotion of uncles..so on and so forth...
And yes..I miss those telegrams too !

Radio Transistor
They were an addiction. One just HAD to hear the Binaca Geetmala and yes the men would be glued to it for cricket commentaries ! And much later came the Walkman..how I loved mine (and my T-series collection of cassettes).

Scooter with sidecar
Aah yes..who can forget them...those who had one were considered R-I-C-H !  And lets not forget Jay and Veeru riding one singing Yeh dosti..those were the days !

No we did not have video games or Play stations. We had these simple games that kept us entertained and busy all day..and how we loved them !

Every house had this..some had the Kala Dant Manjan too !

Remember those ? Reminds me of the song "Dekho dekho dekho bioscope dekho..Delhi ka kutub minar dekho.."

No we had never even heard of dairy milks and fruit n nut..all we knew were these toffees along with the colorful parle poppins and parle kismi toffees.

Diwali crackers were never complete without these "Saanp ki Golis" !

There are so many things I can go on and on about..I truly feel those who were born in that era are blessed !