Moon Embracing the Sun

You emit energy, I only give it form

You are simple, I have many phases

You are open, I am always guarded

You give warmth, while I maintain cool

You act old while treating me like a young

You are practical, while I go by the theory

You focus on the solution, while I ensure the process

You focus on excelling in parts, I wish to understand the whole

You bring me in your fold, while I move freely and bold

I keep you alive even when you are gone at night

I radiate you with all my might

Because you burn, I am lit

Our lives are so profoundly knit

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Why Have Children?

Told by many: Have a baby. Answered by none: Why have children? It made me pause— why I want a little wonder, to whom I wish to surrender, what meaning it might render. Then quietly, it was revealed, this truth was never sealed: children are pure magic, their being needs no logic. They bind scattered families, rekindle affection and love, bring forth our childhood stories only our parents remember. In them, we relive our childhood— its innocence, its light— and learn, at last, gratitude for those who raised us right. They ask for sacrifice, yet give us something rare: a reason to grow gentler, a heart more aware. They carry our culture forward, our values, our names, our ways— small hands holding centuries of yesterdays. Their curiosity is contagious, offering a new lens on the world. You want to live well for your child, and suddenly, you’re afraid to die. ...

प्रवासी मज़दूर के प्रश्न

है कौन वो ? क्या उसका है ? गांव है ? शहर है या देश है ? या सारी दुनिया उसकी है ? यह मज़दूर है , पाया जाता हर जगह ज़रूर है | पर कितना इनका अपमान किया, नाम रखा पर काम लिया | खबरों का एक अंग भी ना ठंग से इन्हें दिया इनके दुख दर्द और कष्टों को बस कुछ आंकड़ों में समेट दिया इनकी व्यथा को सबने ही तो है अनसुना किया ना दिखी कोई आस आसरे की जब जरुरत थी उन्हें सहारे की तालाबंदी में जब सबका घर था उनके जीवन में नया प्रश्न था कहाँ का वो निवासी है , आवासी है ? या बस दास ही है ? जीवन भी नहीं है उसका जब चाहे कोई रोक लेता है | मन चाहे जब जाने को कहता है, वह अपने दम पे ही चलता है कभी भूख कभी प्यास से मरता है जीने के लिए हर पल संघर्ष करता है | आपदा में भी पलायन का किराया तक खुद ही भरता है बाढ़ की तरह उनका जमावड़ा जब शहरों से बहता है सड़क, नदी और रेल की पटरी किनारे बेबस सा दिखता है | क्या तुमको यह भयावह सा नहीं लगता है ? आज यह वर्ग है कलको तुम्हारा भी तो हो सकत...

Weird Modern Women

They are called modern in every era For they dare to be different Push the social boundaries Ask explanation for traditions That paint them weak, Keep them away from power, Burden them with responsibility, Curb their right to choose and push them to just follow- the mores and customs & practices most of which they despise. She is often caught and pulled back by this social web so intricately knit that guides her look her every move her every choice because she fears being an outcast It is so skillfully made That even in her rebel too she tortures herself to fit a checklist of liked/ desirable women From waxing her body to wear that shorts/skirt to compromising her career for family it all looks fair and part of peaceful living.

Versatile Soul

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