Archive for the ‘Romance’ Category


Posted: July 27, 2011 in Poetry, Romance
काश के कभी यूँ होता
मामूली ही सही
बेपरवाह सा कभी
मेरी आँखों में भी जूनून होता
एक हसरत है जो तुझे छूने की
उस हसरत को थोडा सुकून होता
काश के कभी यूं होता
दो पल को ही सही
बेपर्दा सा कभी
बस मैं होता और तू होता
काश के कभी यूं होता
– मोहित जैन


Posted: June 21, 2010 in Poetry, Romance
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It’s been quite long since i wrote the gazal in Hindi, Ek premi ki daastan. So, I thought of writing one more, although it’s more in a song format. But, What the heck! And yes, a hindi song deserved a hindi font, aptly so.

मेरे जाम से छलकता तेरे प्यार का ये नूर है
मुझे तुमसे बेरुखी नहीं थोड़ी बेखुदी ज़रूर है

तुम जो करीब आये मेरे दिल की गिरह से
पलकों में बस गए हो आंसू की तरह से
ठुकरा के जा रहे हो; तुम यूँ मुस्कुरा रहे हो; मैं तरसा हूँ विरह से

मुझे गम का कुछ गिला नहीं तेरी ख़ुशी का सुरूर है

मेरे जाम से छलकता तेरे प्यार का ये नूर है
मुझे तुमसे बेरुखी नहीं थोड़ी बेखुदी ज़रूर है

आँखों ने इश्क ओढ़ लिया, दिल उस परी का गुलाम है
ठोकर मिली कदम कदम, मेरी बेखयाली का इनाम है
बर्बादी की किताबो में; बर्बादों के खिताबो में; मेरा ही जिक्र आम है

मेरी हस्ती गुमनाम सही, मेरा किस्सा मशहूर है

मेरे जाम से छलकता तेरे प्यार का ये नूर है
मुझे तुमसे बेरुखी नहीं थोड़ी बेखुदी ज़रूर है

Seventy & 3

Posted: November 21, 2009 in Creative, Romance
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I feel sad to see my desolate blog. I thought I had started well on my 2009’s resolution, but i guess i fell short, far short. Anyways, as the year starts to dusk, I am back, hopefully for a longer stint. This is a 125 words story I wrote for HT love story contest, 2 weeks ago. Not really win win material, but i sure can devote a li’l space for it here. So I go..

The banyan tree outside the temple had been her abode for a long time. Through her half open cataract eyes, she had seen many people come and go, some carrying hopes, some remorse and some gratitude. That afternoon, as she woke up to a chuckle, an innocent pair of eyes looked straight into hers. There was something about him that pulled her up from her half sleep. It was love at first sight. He would come everyday, and jump straight into her arms, embrace her, kiss her, play with her hair. They talked in unintelligible syllables that only they understood. It was almost divine, their love for each other- his first, her last.

I was just 3 back then, and I still miss her. Amma!

Ek premi ki daastan !

Posted: February 29, 2008 in Poetry, Romance
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Let me put it plainly. This one took time aplenty, and I am hopeful I would improve. Afterall, I am new to writing in Hindi, although I started with “Jai Ho Babaji”, which I am unsure whether to post here or not, coz I am too afraid to be faced with Babaji’s rage.

Oh ! and by the way, it’s a hindi poem(Gosh ! I guess I leaked that out already), somewhat in a gazal format.

the seduction..
makhmali chehra reshmi julfein,
bebas nigaahein fisal hi jaati hai

dekhke unki kamuk adayein
aarozoo ruh ki machal hi jaati hai

the romance..
barso se sust padi thi jo sadak
unke ghar tak aajkal hi jaati hai

aur dekhke hum deewano ko sang
dhadkane sheher ki jal hi jaati hai

the realization..
soorat se dhokha kha baithe the
seerat aakhir badal hi jaati hai

jhuth ke parde lakh bhale ho,
sach ki kainchi chal hi jaati hai

the pain..
has dete hai mehfil mein hum,
par dil se aah nikal hi jaati hai

kuch pal maut to naseeb hai sabka
jaan hamari har pal hi jaati hai

the recovery..
chand kadam ladkhadati hain saanse
dheere dheere sambhal hi jaati hain

chot gehri ho jitni bhi chahe,
waqt ki lau se pighal hi jaati hai

Spell My Love ♫

Posted: September 29, 2007 in Poetry, Romance
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It’s been ages since I last posted. At least, it seems so to me. I am back with my favorite theme ‘Romance’. But this time, it’s special. It’s been jus’ 2 minutes , i keyed in the last words of my first ever love song, something i had been longing to do. And here goes the reprint of it, straight-lifted from my notepad file, in two quick keystrokes.

Oh! u cant spell my love..
Oh! u cant spell my love..

even if
u knew every word
obsolete or absurd
ever-spoken ever-heard

even if u tried hard enough
u jus’ cant spell my love

how completely u rule over my senses
u r compellin’ me to step beyond my fences
oh baby, i have lost control
since the day u stole
my heart out of my hearty defenses

oh princess !!
u cud rule over me
play with my destiny
u cud know me head to heel

but u cant spell my love..

even if u tried hard enough
u jus’ cant spell my love

i act a crazy kid, forever, lost in ur thought
lemme remind u gal, however,crazy, i m not
i am jus’ a bloke in love
in ur smokin’ love
thanks to all the smiles u have brought

oh girl !!
u cud charm me around
in all the ways u have found
u cud know me abound

but u cant spell my love..

even if
u knew every word
obsolete or absurd
ever-spoken ever-heard

even if u tried hard enough
u jus’ cant spell my love

Oh! u cant spell my love..
Oh! u cant spell my love..

P.S.: Someone with decent musical abilities, please help me complete this song. It sounds dull without the notes.


Posted: August 1, 2007 in Poetry, Romance
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I ain’t the real poet. My heart is…
I jus’ scribble it down..


There ain’t any beginning to you….


All the things that move ‘n’ sway
Would come to halt in mid state
The breeze, the seas, the melancholies would also stay
For your magical touch, to heal their fate ..

Give, a moment to cherish
I only yearn for your presence
And all my pain would perish
Jus’ by the kiss of your glance ..

Your smile enchants the blooming flowers
An oasis enough to quench desert’s thirst
Your voice smells of serene showers
And sunrays battle to touch you first ..

Daisies dance to your song
Stars fade out to your glow
A spell of magic you bring along
Make beats go fast n time go slow ..

There ain’t any end to you….

It wasn’t an ordinary friday evening. I had just stuffed a pile of newly churned out 500 notes(off my first salary) into the shallow discomfort of my 11 yr old tattered rusty wallet, that now started to heave heavy joyous sighs like an 80 yr old on an instant high after a nicotine dose. I walked towards the Marathalli market intending to change the face of my wardrobe that now more or less resembled the remains of my college wardrobe.

The market was brimming with human shrieks all around as if the whole town was paid that very day and to cross the limits of coincidence, all had decided to change their wardrobes. Only that could explain the sorry state of the Pantaloons factory outlet. After around 35 unsuccessful attempts of wooing salesman’s attention, I gave up and walked out for a stroll.

And there amid millions of monotonous tired faces, i saw her: her face bearing the freshness of morning lilies; her beautiful kohl lined restless eyes as if searching for someone (for a moment i wished hopelessly, it was me they were looking for); her exquisite curves cherishing the warmth of a camel brown, velvety wool-cashmere coat; her feet, a powerhouse of energy, making their way towards us lesser mortals(i was too absorbed to check but i can assure u their were hundreds of us gaping at the splendiferous beauty). And then the unexpected happened. Her gaze reciprocated mine. I hadn’t the tenacity to persist and i shifted mine towards a nearby bookshop, wondering if what i saw was a mere hopeful illusion. I hadn’t the tenacity to resist either, so i checked again to make sure. It sure wasn’t an illusion. She almost halted, her gaze affixed at me, and then she resumed her stride straight towards me, this time with more vigour and interest. Perhaps I was the lucky one..

It definitely wasn’t an ordinary friday evening.

Seconds later, as she walked past me, i stood still, hypnotised by the fragrance of her sandalwood rose perfume. I vaguely remembered what had happened; her dark silken hair flew across my face, caressing it, as she came tantalisingly close; the fake fur of her turquoise green scarf cut through my finger gaps; and then the touch. Ah ! the divine touch. I remembered feeling the warmth of her palm onto my back. And then she went, abandoning me, mesmerized and lost.

I suddenly felt lonely in the crowd. So I called off my ‘wardrobe upliftment’ plans and walked back home. The weekend wasn’t a cheery one either. The days comprised of innumerable trips to the Marathalli market in futile hope, that further spiced up my misery. The nights were not dark enough to provoke me to sleep. Even the dreams had altered their timetable as if to tease me. The world suddenly seemed a confusing place to live in. The longest weekend of my life finally ended, leaving me dry n yet hopeful( i m a die hard optimist..).

Monday morning was a usual monday morning. I rushed through my morning chores and somehow managed to reach my stop in time. But my cab had beaten me again, this time by two minutes(i came to know later on..). After 10 minutes of incessant ‘lift-pleading'(i told u i m a die hard i keep trying), I boarded an already over-burdened bus dancing to the tunes of a popular(that, i presume ) kannada (that, i presume again..) song. The conductor soon recognized the fresh entrant n rushed towards me for his 5 Rs coin. As I fiddled with my back pocket, tryin to locate my 11 yr old companion, Mom’s words started echoing in my ear, overhauling the bedlam around me..

“Beta, never keep too much money in your wallet, and why dont u use ur front pocket to keep it ??”

I now cursed myself for overlooking her concern then. And suddenly the pieces had started to fit.

Friday evening, the crowd, the resplendent lass, the fragrance and the touch……..

  “bazaar mein wo humse zara sa lag ke chali gayi..
   agli teen raatein hamari yunhi jag ke chali gayi..
   chouthe din jab jebein tatoli to pata chala..
   kambakth zebkatri thi thag ke chali gayi..”


As I gawked at the fleet of radiant black n brown(i could hardly differentiate..) Gucci wallets secured under a glass cover, I thought of her and wondered, who the divine touch meant more to.. me or her.. ??