Hidden…!

“It’s ok to not know
To be ignorant
To choose
to not to be at the
Bottom of the cup
The chasm beneath
Its better if undiscovered
It works for the taste of the tea
You don’t bother
Sip it slowly
Let it melt in your mouth
You must give time
To let the flavour
Unfold
While the chasm beneath grows
Beyond the contours
Of you and me
We couldn’t escape it
Knowing
There lies one
And yet, here we are

The day is rather warm
The sun is overflowing
You could barely raise your face
I am glad
Keeping my face buried
In the dark alleyways of
the bed sheets
It has its own hidden corners
you could play hide and seek
Despite being
Face to face
Could I hide too?

I often wonder
What is it that
Makes us wonder
Makes us question
We are supposed to be ignorant
We are not to ring the alarm
We are to witness
The unfolding
Of the day
Of the light, and darkness
Of you
And me
While the cup
Still there
Half-unfinished
Resting upon a stained tablecloth
Ashamed of its own
Exposure, submissions
Looking at us
Expecting
A response
Did we ever have one?
Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar
14/05/2023

वक़्त

“कोई दूर है
कोई पास है
किसी को रास्ते की तलाश है
किसी को मंजिलो की आस है

किसी शाम की उदास सी
पलकों पे मानो थम गयी
वो जो रात थी, स्याह सी
वो जो दिन उजाला ना हो सका
वो अन्धकार की छाँव में
पलता हुआ
बढ़ता हुआ

वो जो व्यग्र था
उद्विग्न था
अशांत सा
अनिश्चित सा
वो हृदय
अब भी भटक रहा
कभी नींद सा
कभी ख्वाब सा
कभी लड़खड़ाते कदम मगर
कभी डबडबाते नयन अगर
उन थरथराते लबों पे फिर
आती कोई पुकार है
कुछ सुनी हुई
कुछ अनसुनी
कही अनकही में खो रही
वो जो शब्द थे वो चूक रहे
वो जो न लिखा वो बह गए
स्याही की इक इक बूँद में
ढूंढते खुद के निशान
फिर थक गए
फिर रुक गए
फिर गिर पड़े आगोश में
थमती सी सांस की ओट में,
सिसक पड़े
निष्प्राण से
ना सजा मिली
ना उम्मीद थी
वो जो कविता खोखली हुई
वो जो अर्थ बेमानी किये
ना सवाल रहे
ना जवाब हुए
बस टुकड़ो में पल पल
ढल रहे
इक वक़्त जो बीता हुआ
इक वक़्त जो ठहरा हुआ… “

प्रवीण परासर
07 /09 /2022

Tragedy of wanderer..

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:

“Look the window pane doesn’t reflect anymore, It’s just there, a silent witness to the night going by. You can’t see the moon anymore, the trees across the hall are mere spectator, there’s neither any cloud nor the wind, the night is dead and gone, and for the good perhaps. You could simply claim it to be the dark day and no one would bother otherwise. The dusk has set in, matters little though, given its only evening that still carry the grey; if you are looking for a way to escape. Look over the walls, they don’t seem interested in listening to your gibberish, neither the doors or the windows. Tick tock of the clock is too much for the walls, they wouldn’t pay any heed to your groans and moans, you better march on my friend, see if you could still find a few drops hanging by in that glass. Drown, let yourself sink, beneath the noise of drunkards, remains the lullaby for the guilty. Confess, let yourself be judged and simply pretend to be asleep. You don’t exist, you never did, you better learn to learn that, this way or whatever. Solitude is a treasure, better kept locked and unannounced, hidden in plain view, just like the darkness through the days. Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar
03/09/2022

Tragedy of wanderer:

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:

“Are you looking for salvation
Or is it just the guilty conscience
Afraid of retribution
Fear being held responsible
For something you couldn’t even do
You are a coward
You always were
You held back every time
And thought of it being
Generous?
You are a willful ignorant
You reek of arrogance
Your lies
Your pretenses
Your made up
Tales, suffocating enough
For anyone to
Accompany
Anybody to survive
Nothing strangles
As poorly as so called
Intellectual trap
There’s little to repent
Or so you think
Well, think again
Cause, you are under scrutiny
And deserve no mercy
The night has little to offer
To someone pretending
There’s little to hide
Where darkness reigns
One that encapsulates it all
Yet everything remains
Bare naked
Little to hide
Little to show
Unlike days
Where nothing goes
And nothing remains
Of man
Offering his soul
For a penny
For a hug
For a piece of warmth
And receives
A cold shoulder
A hollow glance
A made up node
And then you know
You deserve it
Alas…!

Praveen Parasar
21/08/2022

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling
Tragedy of wanderer:

“The sky doesn’t turn grey anymore
The day boasts of its light and noise
The night sulks beneath it’s void
The darkness hides in the alleyways
Of dried tears
A few screams here and there
Left along the way
Somewhere, there are words
Though leftover, still alive
Awaiting salvation
Awaiting a hand, but
Where am I?

I am guilty of poisoning the words
Declared an outcast
I plead guilty
Verdict was always the same
I seek no retrial
Once condemned
There’s no redemption
You must suffer
You must not struggle
Strength is a trap
Do not let yourself imprisoned
Submission without condition
Answers without questions
Sleepwalk, as if a master
Dazed upon the light
High upon the life
Let those blank sheets ridicule you
Let those droplets elude you
Let the empty glass fill you
Desolated, but together
Let the contours of fading shadow
Of a shallow evening
Give you shape
Give you a shade
To lie beneath
And offer no claim
Upon the broken pieces
Of the night and day
Of truth and false
Of right and wrong
The morality is trap
We allow our detention
While being imprisoned
Forever, in the
Web of consolations
Where do I belong to
The question is irrelevant

What matters is plain and simple
The monster feeds upon you
And you upon the monster
Hollowness demands
A piece of you
Again and again
And so do you
Crave being hollowed out
And again…

Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar
13/07/2022

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:
Tragedy of wanderer:
“ The candle is about to fall silent, it has burnt itself to the core already. There’s no salvation of the candle, forget mercy. It was about time anyway. But remember, no one is banished out of night, it accepts everyone all the same. Everyone must be allowed to suffer without any discrimination. The night is long, the night is dark, the night is ruthless. The night exposes what the day hides. Though you must remember, the night neither asks nor answers. The night is desolated, the night is an abyss trapped within itself, as if cursed to witness it’s fall, drop by drop while the clock continues to play tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. You must be ready for a long haul, he was reminded of the wise words. It doesn’t matter anymore who said it and why, all that matters is the relevance of it. Glass next to the candle is empty. Perhaps it’s waiting to be filled, or does it loathe being filled even. He wondered why being empty always imply a desire of fulfillment, after all voids could fill someone all the same. No?…”

Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling:
Tragedy of Wanderer:

“You thought this was a fight you could win? As ridiculous as it gets, you must know there is no fight, there is nothing to cry for, scream about, struggle for or hope about. Indifference and ignorance work just as fine. Wondering and wandering are poisonous to pursue. Ignore the spectacle of the day, sleepwalk through the alleyways of the night and you would arrive at the evening passing by without any noise. All you need is handful of evenings in your scheme of things. Quitter than the day, livelier than the night, it offers refuse to the darkness but continues to the carry the shades of light however faint. Persisting amidst the abyss of white and black, the grey offers a sense of escape, though stops short of salvation. you cannot escape the suffering, but you can choose to not acknowledge it. Be the man, even gods fear them. Alas!”

मैं…

मैं मौन नहीं हूँ
खामोशी और चुप्पी की छाँव तले बैठे
कुछ अपनापन सा लगता है बस
मुझे रौशनी से डर नहीं
मुझे चमकती सुबह से कोई चिढ नहीं
पर इक अँधेरी शाम की आगोश तले
यूँ ही चुप से दीवाल की छत को ताकना
जहाँ ना प्रश्नो की धुप है
ना उत्तरो की छाया
वहाँ शायद कुछ भी नहीं
कोई आयाम नहीं
कोई ख्याल नहीं
वो शुन्य उन सुनी आँखों में बस जाता है
जैसे काजल
इक लकीर तो खींचती है पलकों पे
पर आंसुओं की बूँदें
बेपरवाह, बेवजह बह निकल सकती
और कोई सवाल की चादर उसे
ना ढकेगी ना पोछेगी

मुझे कोई शिकायत नहीं
दिन की चकाचौंध से
इस शोर शराबे से
उजरते बिखरते ख्वाबों के
टूटते बनते आशियाने से
मुझे कोई तल्ख़ नहीं
की चीखें गुम हो जाती हैं यहाँ
की टूट कर बिखरना, समेटने से ज्यादा बड़ी कला हो गयी है
की ना होना इक सजा है, की होना होगा तुम्हे
ये तक़दीर बना बैठे है लोग
मैं शायद हो नहीं पाता
मैं शायद हो भी नहीं सकता
कमजोर हूँ मैं शायद
जो घबराता है भरने से
पन्ने का भर जाना पन्ने को खाली कर देता है
क्युकी ना होने का सुख
मुझे तसल्ली देता है
ये वो सुकून है
जो प्रेम में मिलता है
जो शायद मीरा को हुआ था
कृष्ण या विष का प्याला
कारण बेमानी हैं यहाँ…

प्रवीण परासर
13/04/2022

Howling

“Give me my share of sunshine
Give me my share of the light
Let me jump through the days
Let me gather my night

The darkness abound
The heart ajar
There’s little on offer
Whether near or far

It’s not raining anymore
Tired and cold
The sky offers little
For those eyes to hold

There’s little to demand
There’s little to complaint
The hope persists
However faint

Disappointment is rewarded
A prize of choice
Ignorance or indifference
You must rejoice…”

Praveen Parasar
14/11/2021

अनदेखे…

वो टूटी सड़के
वो तंग गलियां
वो भीड़ भाड़ से निकलने की
जद्दोजहद करते
वो चेहरे
उन पथराई सी नजरो में
कोई एहसास नहीं है
इंतजार नहीं है
जज्बात भी नहीं शायद
उनमे एक जिद है जैसे बस
वो चल रहे है
लड़ रहे है
धक्का मुक्की, खींच तान
एक रेलमपेल
आदमी, जानवर
गाड़ियों के शोर में
दफ़न
वो खामोशियाँ
वो सिसकियाँ,
वो चीखना चिल्लाना
वो रात के सन्नाटे में
खुद से खुद को छुपाने की
कोशिश करते
उनके बदन मानो उन्ही गलियों की सड़क हो
गड्ढे यहाँ भी, वहाँ भी
और उन उबड़ खाबड़ रास्तों में
कभी सस्ती शराब तो कभी कफ सिरप की
बोतलों में
खुद को ढूंढने की
असफल सी कोशिश करते
वो साँस ले रहे है
झगड़ रहे है
जिन्दा रहने को
या तिल तिल के मरने को
वो मर नहीं सकते शायद
तिलचट्टों की तरह
वो बच जाते है हर बार
वो गंदगी की ढेर में भी खोज लेते है
खाने को, सोने को
और फिर हर रोज़, हर सुबह
पसीने और आंसुओ से नहाए
वो खो जाते है
शहर की चकाचौंध में
जहाँ से गुजरते
ना हम उन्हें देख पाते हैं
ना वो हमें…

प्रवीण परासर
08/10/2021