Wo Peele Rang Ki Shabh...

Chaudhavi raat ka chaand tha,

aur ufak (horizon) me santoori sitare bhi they.

Zabi (forehead) taane,

wo chamak rahe they

damak bhi rahe they.

Maano unse sunder,

unse paak,

us raat koi na thaa.

Poore ek sau aath gulaabo pe paao rakh kar,

kabhi girte hue,

to kabhi mere haatho ko thaamkar…

sambhalte hue us raat,

wo ghar aayee thee.

Na jaane kitno ke armaano ko raundhtee hue,

surmayee raat me,

peela joda pehne,

meri tanhaaee ke andhere saahil pe wo utree thee.

Use peele jode me dekh,

chaand bhi gash khaaker

apne hi kaasho (slices) me but gaya tha.

bikhar gaya tha.

Santoori sitaare bhi haya se jaise,

rooposh (hide) hi ho gaye they.

posheeda (secret) ho gaye they,

kehkashaan (galaxy) me.

Raanaai (makeup) uski aisee thee,

ke khud Eesa (Jesus) ke haatho se,

girija gharo me,

anjeele (bible) gir padee thi.

Uske jism se niklee,

rogan (body oil) ki mehek,

saba me bikhree,

to matho (Buddhist monastry) me leen,

Buddh ka dhyaan,

chatak gaya tha kasam se.

Uske noor ke chund katro ki jumbish (movement) ,

bardaasht na kar paaya tha,

madeene (holy place) ka khuda bhi.

Raat ne bhi,

haule se apna,

mazhab badal liya tha.

Andhere us raat ke,

peele padne lage the.

Aise hi peele andhero me,

jhat se lapak ke, mere haatho se,

chheen liya tha usne,

chaabiyo ka guchcha.

Chaabi ko ek hi baar ghumaake,

meri tanhaayee pe lage taale ko,

khol hi diya tha usne aakhir.

Apne pairo se,

shagun gira kar,

bilkul ek nayee naveli dulhan ki tarah,

jab rakha usne apna pehla kadam,

mera ghar tab,

ghar nahi raha thaa.

Aashiyaana ban gaya thaa.

Aur isee aashiyaane me us raat,

wo umadhtee rahee,

itthlaatee rahee,

balkhaatee rahee,

nakhraatee rahee.

Achaanak daaat ke bolee,

"Rishi, khaana kha lo,"

bilkul jaise Nagpur me Maa,

Baabuji ko,

daaat ke khaana khilaatee hai.

Khaate waqt,

doodhiya kheer se usne,

kaaju, kishmish, aakhrot aur baadaam,

alag kar diye they.

unhe wapas pateele me daal diye the.

maano zindagi ke saare mewe,

usne mere liye rakh chhoda ho.

Chaand sitaare,

Eesa, Buddh aur Khuda,

sab ke sab,

hairat se dekh rahe they.

Jal rahe they,

thandi aag me.

Rukhsat ki ghadi me,

jaate jaate,

bilkul angrezi lehze me,

usne meri mohobbat per

sawal puchcha tha.

Mai hasee mazaak me,

kisi tarah se,

taal gaya tha wo sawaal.

Uske jaane ke baad,

wahi sawaal mujhse,

aasmaanee farishto ne bhi puchcha.

Chaand aur sitaaro ko to,

bata dee maine,

apne dil ki baat.

Aur kaanafoosi me,

Eesa, Buddh aur Khuda ko bhi

pataa chale mere jazbaat.

Na jaane kyo,

ek bus usee se mehzoob (confidential) rakha,

maine apne eeshwaangar (godly lover) ka naam.

Shayad jaanta tha mai,

ke meri hi tarah uski zindagi me bhi,

ek ishq-e-ilaahee (lover) hai.

Jiskee wo dil-o-jaan se,

parastish (prayer) kartee hai.

Uskee isee parastish me khalal na daalna bhi,

to meri mohobbat ki ek adaa hi hai.

Wo apne hisse ka ishq,

bade Gaurav (her lover) ke saath,

nibhaa rahi thee.

aur mai apne hisse ka ishq,

lambee saase lekar,

nibha raha hu.

meri saaso ka uski Khushbu ke saath,

ruhaani rish(i)ta hai.

To kya hua,

gar mere saath,

wo nahi hai aaj.

To kya hua,

gar uske dil me,

nahi hai mere naam ka taaj,

Wo peele rang ki shabh to,

aaj bhi mere dil me,

meri rooh me,

mere aashiyaane me jaavidaa (evergreen) hai.

Jise dekh dekh aaj bhi,

aasmaani farishte,

hairat se jalte hai,

Thandi aag me…

Bilkul meri hi tarah.

Ek hi raat me, puri zindagee jee lee maine,

Ek hi raat ne, puri zindagee le lee meri.--

Aadab Arz Hai...

Rishi Gajbhiye (Sukhanwar)

Date : somewhere in July 2005

A writer always derives inspiration from a particular source and then falls in love with it.

Only then, he is able to pen down his original thoughts…and craft poems which makes him prolific…

The day when I joined IBM, I met her in my induction session…and thereafter we became good friends. Khushbu, as her name suggests, gradually got spread in my days and nights, just like an aroma…I was the biggest Casanova in our entire batch where as she had Gaurav in her life…and we both tried our best to be the open books for each other…

One fine day, I invited her for a dinner. Since my residence was very near to our office she agreed and came to my place. She was dressed in a yellow salwaar suit. While I was serving dinner, which I cooked for her, she found my diary and read few of my poems. She did not believe that I used to write poetry. So to test my writing skills, she insisted me to write something on love…Now love was something, which I never attempted in my earlier life…not even in my poems…

I used to pen down other aspects of life except love…because it was not my cup of tea…So I simply denied writing and talking about this complicated subject…

It’s more than three years now that she came to my place for dinner…forget about communication, we were not even in contact with each other…reason could simply be a misunderstanding…which we never tried to resolve…and we both got busy in our respective life, thereby giving priority to our career…

Suddenly after three long years, we inadvertently faced each other in Philadelphia…that too accidentally…

She is pursuing her MBA there and I went there on an onsite project…now why on earth, such accidents happen and that too when we don’t even expect them to happen…

With puzzled looks, we both tried our best to greet each other…

I asked her about Gaurav and she asked me about my poetry…

we both gave same answers to each other…no answers.

Over few sips of coffee, we both got nostalgic and tried to recollect those moments that we spent together during our IBM days…and then finally we were about to say goodbye to each other so that we may re-enter our respective world which I think both of us forgot for a while…

When we came out of Starbucks, she said that she concealed few things from me…one, she still could not forget my holistic gesture and simplistic style of inviting her to have a self cooked home made dinner rather than buying her a candle lit somewhere in a posh restaurant…two…she disclosed that there was no one in her life by the name of Gaurav. She just used this fictional character to test me as a person…three; she was expecting a red rose from me that day when she asked me to write something on love while having dinner at my place to which I plainly denied…and lastly, she recently got engaged to Arvind in US itself and was waiting for him when we accidentally met each other…

I was speechless for a while…then with a fake smile, I congratulated her and asked her to invite me in her marriage...and left for my hotel in Malvern…

Today, after almost six months post Philadelphia accident, I was shifting my room from second floor to first, in the same building in Gurgaon…while shifting; I got my diary which I did not see since past few years. I turned few pages and found my own Nazm, which I wrote when Khushboo left post dinner three years ago…Wo Peele Rang Ki Shabh, my real life Nazm still prevails…

Aadab Arz Hai...

Rishi Gajbhiye (Sukhanwar)

Date May 04, 2008