Bhulbhulaiya

भूलभुलैया

कभी-कभी ये
नीरव और खाली कमरे
भूलभुलैया से है बन जाते ,
जहाँ रास्ते तलाशने
में ही बीत जाती 
है रात,
रात के गहराते
अँधेरे में
नीद का सुखद
पड़ाव कहाँ ?
यहाँ तो है छत
उडी हुई
भित्ति की दीवारें
सुराखों भरी जमीं
इनसे बचते बचाते 
हो जाती है सुबह
एक थकी सी
सुबह।

Rest- Sweet Sauce of Labor

Every evening, with hurried steps I return from my workplace to my cozy home. Usually I switch on the TV and place myself on the sofa with a cup of black/green tea...relax and enjoy my freedom and solitude which have become synonymous with my living. But, as the weekend starts approaching, I am gripped with a vague sense of some uneasiness....experience some sort of tumult propelling me to break free from the routine, from the imposed inhibitions...to become a rebel...to flee to some unknown place with strange faces..... finally, I become a refugee, resolved  to explore my own space, from where to derive an ounce of strength to overcome this turmoil. 

Juvenile

Juvenile.... Juvenile!

Juvenile...Juvenile,
For an act so vile!
Just four months to go,
So, be merry and cheery,ho!

Fear not....Juvenile!
Sleep well and giggle.
Enjoy your sweet sixteen,
For the dead Albatross is in.

Wipe not....Juvenile!
The stain will not pile.
Just rub your forehead,
Stamped there's 'RAPIST'.

Juvenile....Juvenile,
For the act so vile,
Live long on the crucifix,
Till the thorn of sin pricks.