By Shubham Kumar
Qayamat toh har lamha mehsoos hota hai,
Lekin tum kis se puchte ho?
Hum toh yaha saaf saansein le rahe hai,
Hamare liye shanti hai charo taraf,
Maut jaisi shanti, Bohot gehri, Awaaz bhi nahi aati kisi ki,
Aasmann ko dekho toh ekdaam neela hai, Koi daag nahi, Jaise be-daag kaale andhere,
Chhup chhupaye baithe hai sab, Uss intezaar me jisme khuli azad saansein hai, Jaise zeher bhara ho inn kamro me,
Dikkat hai ki tum dur nahi dekh rahe,
Log durr hai ab bhi apne ghar se, Lambe raaston me,
Hatho ko rakh apne aankhon pe, chhao dekhte hain, Har kadam ek umeed ki raah dekhte hain,
Apne bacchon ko goadd me liye chale jaa rahe hai betahasha,
Ussi Intezaar mein ki ghar ki khuli azad saans bhar sake,
Yaad rakhna unn pairo ke chaalo ko
Kyuki hamare iss duniya me, Inki kurbaani bezubaan hai aur Guzra hua waqt dhuaan,
Saaf reh jaati hai toh bas, yeh kagaazi kaamyabi,
Qamayat toh har lamha mehsoos hota hai mujhe. Kya tumhe hota hai?
A Dream called Mumbai
By Malay Vyas
As I looked out of the window of my bogie, I saw a horizon littered with lights, reflecting its shimmering beauty into the dark waters of the Arabian sea. As I neared the horizon, a horizon that turns dreams into reality, buildings, a Chlorophyllic green like they've been washed every single day, started emerging on one side. On the other side, bright white lights of the stations blinked by. With each station waving goodbye, the magnitude of it all- the building, the blinding light- kept increasing.
Just when you think there couldn't be a more compact society, you'd be surprised. Every square inch gobbled by humanity. When I got off at the station, facing the same humanity, I realised that I am now a part of it. I felt like a spec in hay.
Pushing the thoughts to the back of my head, I sighed with relief at the sight of a new, yet familiar concept, the humble autorickshaw. Before I could absorb the tall buildings, take in the broad roads, and adjust to the city’s flashing lights, I reached my destination.
A few weeks passed. I discovered that the place I lived in was practically part of a slum. We were so close, yet so far. It was as if the city understood, respected and cared about everyone. And so did the people. I felt proud to be a part of it.
Months went by. And I realised that to reach the glorious parts of the city, you had to pass through the ugliest ailes of humanity. Disparity over something so meaningless. The city keeps reminding us that life is a struggle until you make it. You can't stop, otherwise you'll be stuck in the murky streets before you even catch a glimpse of the glories this city can offer. I fell in love.
Completed a year. The people of this city are not what they seem. The ‘stalwarts’ would stab you in the back, just for fun; while the “strugglers’ would have your back, because they know how gruelling the climb to the top is. It’s about not stopping. Being at it no matter what. With that, I lived. And this city taught me how to.
First Ballad & Last Negative
By Sharang Sharma
First Ballad and Last Negative is the diary I let people read. An invitation to the sands of my world. This is my first Ballad. Encapsulated. Safe.