Raahi Chaand

महकी हुई सन्नाटों में वो चाँद आहें भरता है आज भी 

महफ़िलों के उन चँद रंगों को वो निहारता है आज भी 

हैं ये दिन हसीन और शामें जवाँ अब भी मगर 

नर्म मुस्कानों में वह बातें याद करता है आज भी 

थे कुछ अनकहे से लफ्ज़ अब भी बाकी शायद 

उन लफ्ज़ों की शिकायत निगाहों से करता है आज भी

नज़र की नज़ाकत चाहे पलकों से घिरे रहें मगर 

तारों को रोशनी के किस्से बेबाकी से सुनाता है आज भी 

किस्तों में बादलों से मिलना होता है कभी कभी मगर 

उनसे समंदर का हाल-ए-दिल वो पूछ लेता है आज भी 

वह लहरें जो बेक़रारी में क़रार ढूँढती थीं तब 

उनके शिकवे में दास्तानों की गूँज सुनता है आज भी 

कुछ कहानीयों में राहों का आगाज़ रहता होगा शायद 

हर कहानी के मोड़ में जाने क्या राह तलाशता है आज भी 

रास्तों मे अक्सर भटकते होंगे राही मगर 

पर क्या भटका राही मंजिलो से ख़फ़ा रहता है आज भी? 

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An Evening Promise

Amidst an evening of bliss,

intertwined with thoughts,

as vibrant as the colors

painted across the horizon,

The Sky blushed,

as the Sun kissed goodbye,

with a gift of the stars and the moon,

and the promise of a new day.

Forever.

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A little something:

Written as a reply to a prompt  : "Evening".

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Copyright © 2023 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

And Us

It's the time between
nearly there and there

It's the time between
a beginning and a perceived-ending*

It's the time between
late Spring and infant Summer

It's the time just between
the moon and the sun

Just like between

Your Smile and Mine

The golden transitions of the cosmos
and Us.

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*Perceived-ending :

It's not the ending, though many might think it to be. When the sun rises up, the moon is still there. We might not see it owing to the glorious sun, but the moon... it's still there.

A little behind the scenes:

This picture is clicked just before dawn. It's the moon waiting for the sun to rise. Even though the moon knows that she might not be visible once the sun climbs up the horizon, still she waits eagerly for that first glance... during the golden transition.

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Hare on the Moon

The first time I listened

To the story of the

Hare on the moon

I too wanted to go there

Not for the moon

But for the Hare

Who probably was still there

I kept wondering

How it must have felt

To have a celestial body

All just to yourself

There's the majestic view

Without the slightest sound

It must be surrealistic

But how would it feel

With not a dear one around

I was worried then

But days passed and 

I knew it was probably 

Just a special tale

Now as I look up at the moon

I find myself still wondering

About a possibly unseen rune

There must be more

To the compassion of the hare

Is it there to soothe a soul

That looks up for solace

In nights when 

The moon is not whole

Or to convey hearty whispers

From the loving souls

To their beloved listeners

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A little behind the scenes:

When I listened to the story, I knew it was a story. However, as it always has been, I somehow associate life with everything, even inanimate objects. So, I kept wondering about the hare and its feelings.

I wondered if it was infact a gift to be on the moon or if the hare felt otherwise. But as time passed on, I tried to make peace with the situation of the mythical hare. But every single time I see the moon, when the silhouette of the hare is apparent, I return to my childhood musings. 

The hare is a symbol of compassion, intuition, creativity, new beginnings, and spring time. So, it makes sense that it might be there (symbolically) for a reason. Probably it acts as a medium of communication between loved ones who are far apart. Or it may act as a companion to someone who is probably feeling a bit blue and aloof. Or just to tell, "You are not alone. You might be on earth and I might be alone on moon. Even if I am a long way from you, I am there for you. As long as we are there together, we are never really alone."

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Copyright © 2023 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Sculpted in Heart

In the depths of the alluring night

The silvery moonbeams 

Dazzled upon the pink petals

With a dreamy delight

The spring fervor spelled of thoughts

Thoughts that have You in every essence 

The air spoke the language of adoration

And the stars witnessed

The brilliance of your presence

With your enthralling smile like divine art

And your love sculpted in my heart

Forever and more is just a start

Copyright © 2023 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

That's amore!

There was a strange vibe which was beyond any explanation. The million colours that the darkness exuded worked as an insignia for the magnetic effect. Whatever it was, it was very different, yet it seemed so familiar. The moon seemed pristine. It was as if the sun was murmuring the tale of eternal divinity to the moon. It was difficult to apprehend that entrancement. It was electric. It was sheer magic. Like sunshine.

The night sky was gleaming with a million lights; lights from far away stars, stars who rarely seemed concerned. The stars always had a strange presence, altruistic albeit a self-indulgent presence. But the sun was different. Always. Explaining “different” is difficult, may be impossible even, but feeling it was not. “Different” is innate, fundamental. That explains the pre-primeval-ness of sun. Its immaculateness. Maybe even its enigma. But, the moon too seemed to have imbibed the outlandishness. The moon had always been eccentric, but the degree seemed to be several notches higher at the moment; so much so that, the frivolous moon appeared impeccable. Of all the mysteries that the night showcases, it was riveting enough.

Why is it that the most divergent of phenomena seem to be the most congruent of all? Why is it that the frivolous moon seems adorable at the exact same time when the sun emanates the quintessence of ardour? The simple things are perhaps always meant to be the most complicated. Perhaps that is what preserves the essence of being. A little perplexity is perhaps essential for the comprehension of existence, however paradoxical it may seem. But is it not enough that there are already a zillion mystique in the universe! May be explaining that vibe seems like a great oxymoron and most certainly it might be. Defining such an impasse is therefore mythical. The only thing that can be said at this juncture is that it was magic being enamoured by the greatest of enigma. That’s amore!

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And the moon got lost.....

And the moon got lost

When there was the silence of the words

Walking alone to the old birch tree

The rats were still racing on

And the moon got lost…

And the moon got lost

The clouds were on a marathon

Yet the stars twinkled with

Light and cheery, zest and merry

And the moon got lost…

And the moon got lost

The birds chirped, the bees hummed

The sun was wide awake

The leaves dried and the flowers withered

And the moon got lost…

And the moon got lost

The sandy breeze with the fragrance within

Whipped and circled and told some tale

The tides mystified and roared with laughter

And still the moon got lost!

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