Dilemma
He said, ‘Well done.’
You said, ‘No, you’re absolutely wrong.’
He said, ‘This is life.’
You said, ‘It is not the meaning of life.’
He showed me a way.
You said, ‘The way is wrong.’
He is a stream of hope,
You are against the tide.
I am in a great trouble—
You are as acceptable as he.
Which way shall I choose now?
In Dreadful Darkness
It is daytime now
And the sun is over my head
Nevertheless it is dark all around.
Not for the covering of the trees and their foliage
Not even for the veil of the tall buildings
Nevertheless it is dark all around.
Undoubtedly it is daytime now
But I can’t see you
Or anyone among you
I can’t see even myself.
The sun is still over my head.
For its violent rays
Or for its blinding light
We are in dreadful darkness.
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Lies Become Truth
Lies become truth
In print
Or the visible lies turn true day by day.
Suspicion doesn’t exist here
Because we have already believed—
The east is the west.
Erroneous outcome of our gain and loss
Brings no suspicion
Because our simple beliefs
Have already become lies day by day.
Camouflage
The house isn’t mine,
I am just sitting inside.
The admiring words I do not deserve,
They belong to others.
The lady I am sitting by isn’t mine,
So there’s no need to consider me her sweetheart.
The car isn’t mine too,
I am just a passenger.
And the pause isn’t so far, it is closer.
What a gambling with woman, house and car!
Though their possession isn’t mine,
I own them just for the time being.
Thus I wander with bountiful admiration,
And thus camouflage the rumors in the air.
The history of our gain and loss
Is like this in short.
The Door
If I get closer to the door
It shuts my way out.
And I hear the hullabaloo
On the other side of the open-window.
Standing alone at the closed door
I cannot make my way out.
But what a pity!
When I try to close it returning home,
The open-door laughs and mocks me.
And it happens all the time.
When I want to go out, the door is closed.
When I come back home, the bond is gone.
Such a life, such a contradiction
Every day I carry.
The Story of Dawn and Night
It was the beginning of the story at dawn
And mere a conversation and
Painting characters at that time.
But it didn’t happen afterwards
As it was settled to be—it was, because, dawn.
Still though the noon is ahead
And the afternoon and the night.
I have another story for the noon,
And a complete change of the characters.
The afternoon and night awaiting as usual,
And that is why—
The words and anecdotes of noon
Go aside while other contexts arise.
The story of dawn perches in the afternoon,
The old characters yield the stage again,
With their own craft and style.
And soon the darkness of night swallows
The afternoon sunshine.
Midday flowers turn back from oblivion,
At some part of night,
When alters the afternoon panorama.
And this story, at last, constantly resides on the verge of life.
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Translated by: Biddut Khoshnobish
Illustration : Rajat
