Hasi

Tumhare chehre par hasi to thi

Par tumhari aankhen kuch

Aur keh rahi thi

Shayad kuch thaki si thi

Tumhara chehre par hasi to thi

Par tumhare andaz

Kuch alag se the

Aaj tum chup se the

Aaj tum- tum se na the

Waqt ke saat

Raasta beet ta gaya

Main chalta raha

Tu bhi chalta gaya

Ruka na tu

Ruka na mai

Chehre par tere

Chehre par mere

Hasi to thi

Par hamari aankhen

Kuch thaki si thi

Tumhare chehre par hasi to thi…

Raat

Sard raaton mai
Tum syahi ki tarah
Kuch ghul se gaye the

Rang tumhara
Halka toh hua tha
Par woh nasha ab bhi tha
Woh mehek gayi nahi thi

Sard raaton mai
Tum syahi ki tarah
Kuch ghul se gaye the

Maine chaha poochna tum se
Par tum tez chale jaa rahe the
Tumse kadam milana
Mumkin na tha

Sard raaton mai
Tum syahi ki tarah
Kuch ghul se gaye the

Mez (Table)

Chote se kamre main kone ko ek mez rakhi hui thi. Raat ka waqt tha toh andhera laazmi tha. Us kone wali mez par ek lamp rakha tha. Us lamp ki roshni se mez par ralji kitaabe dikhi aur baaki samaan bhi. Woh kamre main ghusa aur dekha ki kamra thanda sa tha lekin pankha band tha. Mez par pahucha toh dekha khidki khul thi, neeche ek sunsaan gali thi jisme do kutte bhaunk rahe the.

Mez par kuch 6-7 kitaabe, 2 diary aur kuch lifafe padhe the. Ek diary uthai toh usme se ek syahi wali kalam giti. Lamp lekar usne kalam uthai aur wapis diary main rakhne laga. Ek pan-na khola toh us par kuch likha tha. Paas rakhi kursi kheechte hue usne diary ko tawaj-jo (importance) se padhna shru kiya….

Diary main likha tha, “Chote se kamre main kone ko ek mez rakhi hui thi…….”

-Jafar Rehman

Cigarette aur chai

Un sardiyon ki raaton main
Mere haath mai ek cigarette thi
Aur tumhare haath mai chai ka cup

Hum dono ek thele par baithe
Andheri sunsaan raat mai
Baate kar rahe the

Kohre ke saath
Hamare muh se dhuan nikal raha tha
Us hisaab se toh
Cigarette tum bhi pee rahi thi

Maine haskar yeh baat tumse kahi
Toh tumhe thoda sa bura laga

Mujhe ilm tha is baat ka
Ki tumhe cigratte pasand nahi thi

Ab woh waqt aa chuka tha
Jab tumhari chai khatam hone ko thi
Aur meri cigarette ke bhi
Kuch aakhri kash bache the

Fhir main utha
Aur tum uthi
Aur dono apni raah chal diye

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Arse hue (Hindi Post)

Kabhi toh aao khayalo main
Yahan sunsaani aksar hojati hai
Kabhi toh aao aangan main hamare
Yahan dhoop aksar rehti hai
Na Jaane Kitne arse hue
Is tamanna ko
Ki aaye woh yaha
Zindagi yuhi guzri chali gayi
Na gayi sunsani
Na hi gayi yeh dhoop yaha se

-Jafar Rehman

Tea Cup- Short story (hindi)

I came to the blog with the determination to write something and then I checked my last post. Guess what, it was on 20th of August, exactly a month ago. In that very post, I had mentioned about writing more frequently which I failed to do. A lot of reasons but let’s not get into that.

I am sharing something I recently wrote, it is in Hindi and is in raw form (not edited). So go ahead, read it and let me know what you think. (Source for photo)

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Aadha piya hua chai ka woh cup, mez par rakha tha, chai toh behraal thandi ho chuki thi lekin uska abhi tak koi pata nahi tha. Neeche se achanak kisine awaz lagai thi toh woh daudta hua chala gaya tha. Mujhe lagaa koi khaas azeez aaya hoga aur yahi sochte sochte mujhe kaafi waqt ho gaya lekin koi nahi aaya. Mann mai khayal sa aaya ki uth kar chala jaata hun lekin fhir yaad aaya ki ghar khali tha aur is tarah ghar khula chod jaana theek nahi hoga toh main wapis baith gaya.

Mann behlane ke liye kuch toh karna tha toh waha padhe akhbar ko lekar maine saalo baad khabre padhna shru kiya aur keval istehaar dekh kar woh bhi mez par patak diya. Akhbar se adhi chai ka cup gir gaya aur poori mez par chai fhail gayi. Maine socha lo, yahi baaki tha and yahi soch kar main safai main lag gaya. Itni hi der main ek mohtarma zeene se upar aagayi aur boli Chacha jaan ghar hai kya, maine bola nahi woh nahi hai aap batae kya kaam. Woh thodi der ruki aur fhir boli, aap hai kaun, pehle toh yaha nahi dekha. Chacha jaan ne yeh ghar bech toh nahi diya?
Jispar maine jaldi se kaha arre nahi chacha jaan gaye hue hai bahar main unke bete ka dost hun. Paan chabati hui woh mud kar wapis zeene se utar gayi. Utarte utarte boli ki unse kehdena ki Sakeena ayi thi. Maine zehen main dobara naam dohraha jisse ki main bhool na jaun.

Mujhe baithe hue kuch adha ghanta hua hoga aur ab mere intezaar ki intehaan aage badh chuki thi. Mujhe apne dost par behisaab gussa aa raha tha par main yeh bhi soch raha tha ki kuch galat na hua ho. Thodi der main andar ek kamre main rakhe telephone ki ghanti baji toh main uthane ke lye gaya. Phone uthaya toh……..

 

Woh Shaam

I wrote this back in March this year. Enjoy reading it!

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Incidences in Fahistan

This dates back to 27th of February 1952 and it happened to be a leap year when Mrs. Singh gave birth to a baby boy who’d grow up to be the protagonist of this story.

The boy was named Rajendra Singh and had a pleasant childhood despite the fact that he was a thin boy who always looked 3-4 years younger than he was. An average student in school who was later pushed by his parents to study in one of the prestigious university of the country and that is when he left his home for the city called Fahistan.

This city of Fahistan was far more developed than any other in the whole country. There were better horse carts in the city and paved roads for them to go around smartly, even the houses were made of bricks and cement. The university attracted brilliant minds from all the places and Rajendra was lucky to get admission there. It was a little difficult for him to adapt to this new style of life where people spoke differently and also ate different kinds of meals but 4 years of his life passed easily.

Now it was time to return home and see what he would do next. From many options he could join his father’s shop and expand the business or he could go and work for someone else and possibly earn more. Little did he know that luck had something else in store for him and that is precisely when the trouble struck and due to a series of events he couldn’t go to his hometown.

One of his acquaintance had called him for an important matter during the last days and on arriving he realized that it would take him months to solve the problem his acquaintance had ventured into. He could have said no and turned his head but that’s not how he was raised. He sent a telegram to his parents in the village and told them that some important matter had come up due to which he won’t be able to come home early and he let them know that he was safe and sound which wasn’t completely true.

Two months had passed but the rounds to the police station and court didn’t decrease, they even contacted some influential people in the city of Fahistan but no one helped. Left to their own, Rajendra and Shamshad fought for themselves or say Rajendra and Shamshad fought for Shamshad.

After 4 months, it looked like they might win the case and go their ways happily but something had to happen again. One night both of them were returning from the small hotel, two men on motorcycle came to them asking for an address when the pillion rider took out a gun and shot Shamshad in the chest. They sped away while Rajendra stood there too shocked to react and when he looked down he realized that Shamshad had died and was in the pool of blood. As he leaned in to shake Shamshad, he saw his reflection in his eyes which still held some life.

Rajendra couldn’t stay in the city of Fahistan any longer and soon returned to his hometown. He joined his father’s business and tried hard to forget what happened to Shamshad. But he never could.

 

eadw

Kaafi arse se

I’ve always loved urdu/hindi poetry but never wrote much. This is where I wrote a certain thing and I’m sharing the same with you. Tell me if you share the same interest ­čÖé 

The incident

Yesterday I boarded the metro and there wasn’t much rush which means that I┬áget space to read. I took my book out from the bag and started reading it, now what happens when I read a book is that my destination arrives faster and it seems that I have skipped many stations, but that is obviously not the case. Anyway, I am reading and there is a guy standing beside me for most of the journey.

Just before my stop, he gets a seat almost in front of me and sits down. After a few minutes, he is staring at the book and then he is staring at me. Not staring but you know he looked at the book and then at me. I was thinking what is wrong with this guy, does he like the book or he wants it? But then I saw his confused face and it occurred to me that I was reading ‘Murder on the Orient Express‘ by Agatha Christie. So you get it? Me reading a book about the murder on some other express while I am in the┬ámetro,┬áthat guy must be wondering what is happening.

I closed my book and went towards the door and de-boarded the metro to get to work.

You can buy the book here.

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