यूँ ही

यूँ ही एक मुस्कुराहट कल
चेहरे पे आ रुकी थी

रास्ते थे जब धुंदले धुंदले
सांस थी जब धीमी धीमी
सपनो से खेलते खेलते
पलकों में वो बसी थी

थामा जो तूने हात था
गाया जो तूने गीत था
चाहतों की गलियों से
मेरे दिल से वो जुडी थी

तेरी यादों से घिरी
तेरी दमन से लिपटी
ईक फूल बनके जैसे
मेरा साज बन गयी थी

तेरे शहर को छोड़े
ज़माना हो गया था
फिर सीने के दरिया से
क्यू दीवानगी हो रही थी

यूँ ही एक मुस्कुराहट कल
चेहरे पे आ रुकी थी
एक अफ़साना बनके
फिर आंसू से जा मिली थी

Word Mole

Behind all the pretenses and smiles, we all have our story. Real Story. That’s such an Oxymoron. Real. Story. We adults have THE STORY OF OUR LIVES. It could be “I know a lot of things but I am good at nothing” or “I am good at this but will never be good at that. EVER”

When we are kids we have many stories of life. They are rather innocent and short lived. It could be “they don’t include me in their group” or “mom always favors her” or “gee my math used to be awesome but whatever the heck happened?”.

I have come to realize that may be around we reach double digit birthdays, our stories might start to feel real. They slowly start to become who we are and how we think people will see us eventually. Even if there is any small positive story that comes in our mind, we always have the big sad story pity party going on along the side which always wins.

Stories need to be talked. They need to be dissolved like the ones in the Word Mole game. The moment they form, I want them to vanish and we get rewarded for creating it and saying bye to them.

Today is a beginning of a new tomorrow..Let’s play Word Mole with our kids and make up Real Stories and say goodbye to them….