धर्मार्थ

रण का नाद उठा जब
दक्षिण में, धनुष्य की कोटि से...
"जाओ वीर, हर लाओ
एक लिंग, कैलाश की ही चोंटी से।"

ऐसा कहते ही, श्रीराम के परम भक्त,
पवन-सूत, बजरंग हुए नतमस्तक।
"सत्य वचन, प्रभु" कहा "बिन लिंग,
रण विजय यज्ञ, अब रुका रहेगा कब तक।"

यूँ कह बजरंग ने आशीष लिया
और हुए आँख से ओझल,
यहाँ तो है बस कोसों-कोसों
नील नभ, बालू रेत औ' जल,
"यत्र - न ब्राहमण ना अर्धांग"
श्रीराम के चिंतन में यही था पल-पल।

बिन ऋषि, बिन लिंग,
वे यज्ञ विजय का कैसे पूरा कर पायेंगे?
और, जाने कौन घड़ी में,
बजरंग कैलाशपति को लायेंगे।

श्याम वर्ण की चिंता जब,
चहूँ दिशा में व्याप्त हूई....
और दशानन रावण को
श्रीराम की ग्लानी ज्ञात हूई....

तब लंकापति, असुरराज ने
ब्राह्मण धर्म निभाया है...
स्वकरों से बने बालू लिंग से
श्रीराम का विजय यज्ञ करवाया है।

औ' यही नहीं, वे लाये साथ
सिया को, पुष्पक विमान में ....
यह देख प्रभू श्रीराम झुके,
ब्राह्मण के सनमान में।

लिंग बना, जो डिगा नही,
इतिहास ने ये कहीं लिखा नही
कि रणभूमि में असुरराज ने वीरगति जो पाई है,
वह इस कारण कि, कर्म, धर्म और
शेष सभी की चर्या पूरी निभाई है।

SNUG

He tugged a little on right and then a little harder on the left, leaned his head over her shoulder and said softly “You know I’ve always wanted to use this phrase…. I’ve always wanted to mumble ‘sweet nothings’ in your ear….”

“Well-if-you-don’t-loosen-this-a-bit….. I-don’t-know-about-sweet…..” she wheezed “….but-I-sure-would-be-able-to-say-nothing….” She let out a sigh as if it took a great deal of effort to say that; A sigh that was drowned in his chuckles. She shrugged her shoulders to ease the corset and stared hard at the glass…. Into those eyes and ran her hand through his ruffled hair.

“I don’t think I need the corset so tight when there are other things keeping me warm.” She lipped impishly.

Utterly incapable of taking his eyes off her, full of admiration and tempt, he briefly raised his head from her shoulder and mumbled “Like…?”

As he leaned back into her neck, she gave a little shudder and said “Like your warm breathe…..umm….Like your arms wrapped around me….”

“So…. It’s snowing outside just so you and I can stay indoors, eh?? I like that….” Before he could exhaust his breathe, she had pranced over to the misted screen. He walked up behind her, put a hand round her waist and wiped a clean circle in the fogged glass with the sleeve of his tattered sweater.

“Just like our own orb isn’t it?? And listen to the ice chunks making the tin roof sing….. Pitter Patter Pitter Patter…. The music and the sight make me crave for a dance…..” she crooned as she turned on her heel and held him. They waltzed around, he strutted with a limp on left and she swayed repetitively with a little twitch.

The two leaned into an oddly comfortable posture and stopped still. He broke the stillness with an untroubled “I am sorry”.

“What for?”

“Well, I remember the time when we wouldn’t wait for winters for it to snow….. when snow was just a tilt away…. when someone just shook our home about and I would wrap you in my warmth.” He said deeply. “There was a time when we would prance many a times in a day…. every time that kid turned the key. And we made music of our own. That was our orb…. Our globe…. Our home. I am sorry that I couldn’t save our snug little world.”

“Hey…. We don’t need a key or someone to tilt us to make this our home. I love this side walk we live on now. I love these brief months of winter, which bring back the memories of our celebrated abode.” She held up his chin and smiled “It’s just our SNOW GLOBE that has aged, not us…. its two who make it a home…. Our home….. and you are just as warm…. it’s you who makes this home, SNUG.”

Of You as much For You

Colour me Red, White and Blue...
With every possible Earthly Hue...
Colour me conventional....
Or may be just a little askew...
Like a bright Green mountain...
Or some placid sunset's view...
Feeling the staleness of dead Brown...
Or fresh and crisp as morning dew...
Like an all new concoction...
Or a steaming hot brew.
Alongside the canvas...
Over the time as I grew...
The brushes turned stagnant...
And only my hands drew...
Colours of my life, and...
Everything about, flew...
In Love I fell deeper...
And all I painted was YOU!
You as I painted, I realised...
The Colours are too few...
With You starts Life and
All colours in time due...
Fall short for your facets
All Old and New...
Varying in your facets...
Too many; not few...
So many things to yourself, that,
Everything in its own leu;
Hides a sign of life...
Of nature...
Of Beauty...
Or simply put...
OF YOU...