The man who fed the Ants

I saw this man today, throwing flour to the ground. Curious, I went and asked him what exactly is he doing? He said “feeding ants can’t you see? Now move away before you step on few of them. I was about to say, “The ants will survive without your help. They will manage quite well”. Then thought ants will survive without him but would he after knowing that the Ants actually don’t need him?

Conversation with a knife

The kitchen knife begged me “please do not use me as a butter knife”. I replied “fuck you” and used it any ways....
Moral of the story.... There are no morals.... If anyone thinks he/she owns you... He/she will use you any ways he/ she want.

Apart from the fact that I am talking to knives these days it is a pitty boring story...

Friends

sacchai hum aur kabhi
jee lenge kabhi aur sahi
pahar ke ganje shikhron pe
anjaan ladkiyon ke siskiyon se
dhoop se tapte pattaron pe
hum ishque ki chadar...., khair
phir aur kabhi, phir aur sahi.

Jante toh hai hum sab magar,
Chahata hai yeh dil kuch aur dagar
Alas (अलस) bhari angraiyon mein
Dard ki aah pahechanti hai nazar
Karna toh hai bohut kuch..... , kahir
Phir aur kabhi, phir aur sahi.

Charas ke kale dhuyen mei,
Ya need se bhaari palkon ne
Dard se bhara lota daba diya
Abb titliyon ka peecha kare kyon?
Jab kal aur kal ka wasta tut gaya
Par hum sapna dekhna...... khair
Phir aur kabhi, phir aur sahi

Wo dekh kabutar chup gaya
Table ke neeche dubpak gaya
Hum karke bhird (भीड़) chale usko bachane
Jo khud se hi woh dar gaya
sacchai hum aur kabhi
jee lenge kabhi aur sahi

Music

It was not any of these days. Or was it yesterday or is it just a memory of a neverday. I opened my eyes, it was dark inside and outside didn’t exist. The neatly rolled joints were placed on the window. The window led to another dark room where slept a guy whose name I still do not know or rather I should say I know him by many names. It was winters but all I remember now is the warmth. We were atleast five sleeping on the bed with one quilt to share. I didn’t belong there but I guess they knew I do not belong anywhere. Each one of them made sure I was always covered; had my share of the quilt, the share which was not mine.

Then the guy with the car came. He brought bright day light from the open door. We let love birds fly in the room. We left the cage door open. They thought they were free as we think we are free. We drove through the green fields. More smoke came out the windows than the car’s back side. It wasn’t strange because strange was nothing and everything at the same time. We saw black buck, peacocks, a hermit who knew the present he took us to this guy whose car was struck in the field. The poet got mud on his face trying to help. I think people who are good with words and have equally good heart should not get into the ring. Damn we all will be shot indiscriminately.... Now fuck that.

There is music everywhere but only he who is an artist recognises that. We made noise and to some not even in a funny way but then they let us any ways.