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BREATH I forget the English meaning of the entities IZZAT, AABROO,DAYRA,PURDAH. I forget the Urdu meaning of the entities HONOUR,FAME,VEILED,PURE I see triumph in my mother’s eyes as I make my way to college Modernization engulfs me, transforms me, bewitches me I forget my teachings, shattering the rejoice in her eyes YET SHE REJOICES UNAWARE OF IT ALL. WHITE white stone or what the west calls it, the white marble PURDAH or what the west calls it slavery SHOES or what the wes

ना तुम कुछ बोलोगी, ना हम कुछ बोलेंगे इसी कश्मकश में कि कौन पहले बोलेगा, एक कोशिश बोलने की हम दोनों करेंगे, मगर ना तुम कुछ बोलोगी, ना हम कुछ बोलेंगे… ना तुम कभी बदलोगी, ना हम कभी बदलेंगे, इसी बदहवासी में कि कौन कितना बदलेगा, एक कोशिश बदलने की हम दोनों करेंगे, मगर ना तुम कभी बदलोगी , ना हम कभी बदलेंगे… ना तुम हमे सोचोगी, ना हम तुम्हें सोचेंगे, इसी अनजानेपन में कि कौन पहले सोचेगा, एक कोशिश सोचने की हम दोनों करेंगे, मगर ना तुम हमे सोचोगी , ना हम तुम्हें सोचेंगे… ना तुम व

For a long time, I had put off watching Black Friday, the 2007/2004 Anurag Kashyap movie, despite the fact that it was critically acclaimed and suited my taste in genre and type. Somewhere in my seventh semester in college, I got struck by the bug to watch the movie, inexplicably and suddenly. I finally watched it yesterday, and as I did, it felt like my cinematic experience had increased in richness manifold. When it had released, my family had decided to book tickets, and I

As this dirty bus cuts in through the cold narrow lanes, I have nothing to do but to stare at the so-called nature’s place. The winter is good, but why does it try to force the poor tree out of the snow? Ahh, a tree, without a single leaf or a bud, it knows, no result would the effort sow. I hate that I remember, people in summers water their plants day after day, Aren’t they aware the summer sun sucks those plants and spoils their play? The bus is ridiculously ugly, the driv

The merry sun shines bright and high, The rain drops patter out a happy rhyme, The wintry slush- all beautiful it lies; And oh, it’s spring! The bells of joy do chime! Those leaves rustle a gleeful tune yearlong, In autumn, take a bow, and apprentices sprout; The charming fowls chirp their gay song And the babbling brook, ecstasy it shouts. Against the endless expanse of blue above, The mountains high and the valleys low Silhouette true and joyful smiles of love, All leaving

It had been the darkest and the brightest night: Waves of screams had rippled through the gloom, Groans of ecstasy had echoed off the walls; She had undone the done, and done the undone; But never did she suspect that the childish cry Muffled with the pleas of his pale-faced mother Would echo off the walls, like the groans of ecstasy- Two forms through which she had sliced her dagger Stood in the doorway, or peeked in through the window, Called out her name in a low,

यह कमाल की ही बात है ना कि हम अपनी ज़िंदगी में क्या कुछ सोच कर नहीं रखते हैं- मैं बड़ा होकर यह करूँगा, मैं बड़ा होकर वह करूँगा, मैं इस शहर में रहूँगा, मेरे पास इतनी गाड़ियाँ होंगी, मेरा बंगला नदी के इस किनारे होगा, मैं इस जगह घूमने जाऊंगा और पता नहीं क्या क्या। शायद मनुष्य इतना सोचे बिना सिर्फ कर्म करने पर ध्यान दे तो नियति भी एक पल सोचने को मजबूर हो जायें। खैर, इन सब से परे विचित्र बात यह है कि इतना कुछ सोचने के बाद भी हम कभी मौत की कल्पना नहीं करते। यह मौत शब्द भी बड़ा अनोख

Finally, the day had come. Last three weeks had been a nightmare.  With every passing hour, her heart was escalating to new heights of anxiety. She looked at herself in the mirror and tried to curve her lips but today, the mirror didn’t  smile back. Through the window, it looked like just another Diwali night with the sky dazzling with crackers.She saw a rocket shooting for the sky. For a few seconds, it spread light and then vanished in the dark. She was that rocket. She had