कुछ रचना अपनी ज़ुबान में
What is it to feel like, you live and die at the same time?
Many claim that they feel the same,
But did they actually felt the same?
You might have felt something,
But is that something equivalent to mine?
Dreams are connected to our thoughts,
In that moment you have had everything for nothing,
But when you open your eyes you are forced to live this harsh reality,
The reality in which you are already dead.
So are you opening up to life or death?
Maybe life is the death
And
Death is the life.
Are your words still free?
Are you free to speak about your public and private life, the way you used to do when you were a child?
Is not your brain full of thoughts, soul full of happiness, grief, confessions, realizations?
In the world where words are restricted, oppressed and prohibited.
Can I still share my thoughts, feeling, truth, to my loved ones?
Or they are also a part of double faced human creatures roaming around me?
Is still there someone who have one thought on one thing?
Do you not feel like nothing, air, vacuum, poof?
And then trapped in the state of helplessness, confusion and suffocation.
Congratulations, you again failed to express, your wings fallen off you.
Rottenness starts.
चूमना हो पर्वतमाला जिसे
कहां कहीं ठहरता है
सुनता है सुबह का शंखनाद वहीं
रात के अंधेरे से जो न डरता है
एक एक कदम धीर तू बढ़ाता चल
मिले जहां अंधियारे दीप जलाता चल!
विश्वजीत को निद्रा भोग कहां मोहता है
अघोरी को अभाव भला अखरता है?
कुरुक्षेत्र का युद्ध जीतता है वहीं
जो मृत्यु से न डरता है
एक एक कदम धीर तू बढ़ाता चल
मिले जहां अंधियारे दीप जलाता चल!
खतरे हैं विशाल, लंबे हैं आंधी के अंतराल
परिंदा लेकिन पर फहराता है
मिलती हैं ऊंचाइयां उसे ही
जो बादलों से टकराता है
एक एक कदम धीर तू बढ़ाता चल
मिले जहां अंधियारे दीप जलाता चल!
इनसान की हो या समान की हो,
मजबूर होना तह है|
और जब वो आदत किसी ऐसे इनसान से जुड जऐ जिसको कभी किसी की आदत न लगती हो तो बडा मसला खडा हो जाता है|
मुशकिल होता है अपने ही खयालो से भागना,
क्या कभी कोई भाग पाया है?
और अगर कोशिश भी की है,
तो कबतक सफल हो पया है?
The picturesque of his house, if translated into poetry, would have made a good oxymoronic speech as it stood elegantly adjoining the filthy native fisherman settlements. Just like a little joy in mounds of distress or little truth among an ocean of lies or vice versa.
– UtKARSH, MAN ON THE BENCH
How did Sandip end up in a mental asylum? Things were pretty fine until he spotted a man on the bench. Xavier was definitely not ordinary. The chain of event between them made Sandip lose the sense of reality. While he was stuck in a state of deep conundrum of his past.
TO READ THE STORY CLICK ON THE LINK AND DO FOLLOW ME ON WATTPAD FOR UPDATES ON NEXT CHAPTER:
Chapter 1: https://www.wattpad.com/976922604-man-on-the-bench-chapter-1
Chapter 2: http://www.wattpad.com/story/246743551-man-on-the-bench?utm_source=widget&utm_medium=link_copy
नयी ज़ुबान 