vo ik khaab

वो इक ख्वाब
बेहद हसीन था
वो सच हो जायेगा
हमको यकीन था
उस के ख्याल में
रातें नहीं
दिन गवाएं थे हमने
बेशुमार लम्हे
उसके तस्सव्वुर में बिताये थे हमने

यूँ वक्त जाया नहीं करते
कुछ संजीदा लम्हों का मशवरा था
पर
कहाँ सुनता था किसी की
की दिल था

हर हकीकत से ज़ियादा अज़ीज़ था
वो इक ख्वाब
दिल के बेहद करीब था

मगर हैरान हूँ
की वो जब सच न हुआ
जों होना चाहिए था
मुझको वो गम न हुआ


सीने में
धड़कता ही रहा अपलक
उसके जाने से
ये मर क्यों न गया

मेरी बेरुखी से शायाद रूठ ही गया
अब सोचती हूँ तो मुझको भूल भी गया


a lot of people think that survival is a beautiful thing. yes it is. i am not arguing with that. mostly because i have no strength left, to argue with anything anymore.

but, sometimes, every now and then, i cannot shake the feeling, that it would be the worst of fates to survive the loss of everything that means something to you, to outlive everyone who you loved, to slowly lose everything till there is nothing left to lose. what purpose does this pigheaded persistent survival serve? what do you prove at the end of it? that nothing can kill you? is that really so grand?

i wish, someday, i am able to love something so much, that if it is taken away from me, it should kill me. some desire, some wish, some hope - so real, so potent, so much a part of me that its loss should be the loss of air from my lungs, blood from my veins, and marrow from my bones. something. you could give so much of yourself to, to have nothing left for self. nothing. nothing to keep you going, nothing to make you leave your bed in the morning, nothing to keep the heart beating.

that if i ever lose you, i should die.

and if i don't. then the least i could do, is wonder why? why survive you?