New girl in the town

She’s the new girl in the town, no one knows where she’s from or what’s her name. However, she has become the topic of discussion everywhere. They all want to know about this beautiful girl, but do they really want to know about her? I guess some things remain beautiful only in mysteries.

They’re scared to talk to her, they think it might shatter their imaginations about her. They’re scared to touch her, what if she turns to dust. They just want to stare at her, you just want to stare at her. This new girl in the town, she’s your…….

No, I guess she’s everyone’s new crush.

She’s so beautiful,
What can I say,
And look at that smile,
Seriously what can I say

Look into those eyes,
And feel your soul stir up,
You seriously think,
There’s something I should say

Look at her skin,
That immaculate complexion reflecting
All the beautiful dreams
I am too distracted, to say anything

Look at that beautiful masterpiece,
And close your eyes,
Now do you feel the need
For something to be said

And tell me if there’s something still
Left unsaid, or wait
Don’t say it, because there are
Thousands of stories left unsaid, in her eyes
I have picked mine, and you pick yours.
Now let your imagination fly in those blue skies

And say if you want to,
But I know you won’t be able to.
Because I know the feeling,
A feeling so pure, that you won’t be able to explain
But then when do we have to explain everything,
We’ll just look at her, and let the serenity fade away our pain

Just look at her,
And zip your lips,
Just look at her,
Your worries today, she’ll eclipse.

And what more can I say,
There’s nothing I will,
There’s nothing you will

Seriously, what can I say..
 Photograph by: Sarika Gangwal

 Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

Intezaar Karunga Tumhara

Last evening while walking through the woods, a piece of paper flew and landed at my feet. It was a love letter without any name on it, which might have lost its destination or maybe the last sign of a love that doesn’t matter anymore, said the friend walking along with me. But hey, who said that a love stops mattering because it doesn’t, a love lasts forever. Sometimes as a tear, sometimes as a smile.

However, it reminded me of him. He made me proofread a letter he had written for her. I didn’t know who he was, I just met him during one my visits to a nearby village. He said if she’d say yes then he’d invite me to his marriage, he never did.

I guess he had forgotten. But I still haven’t forgotten that letter.

His first love letter…

आज सुबह ही अपने गाँव पहुंचा मैं, बड़ी कड़ाके की ठण्ड थी| हल्के कोहरे को चीरती हुई जब बस अपनी ही मस्ती में आगे बढे जा रही थी, तो कुछ नारियल के पेड़ दिखाई दिए थे| वही पेड़ जहाँ बचपन में न जाने कितना वक़्त पकड़न-पकड़ाई खेलते हुए बिता देते थे| याद है, एक दिन तुमने कहा था, “सुनो जब हम बड़े हो जायेंगे तब भी इन्ही पेड़ों के पास आया करेंगे, मुझे और इन्हें भूलोगे तो नहीं?” फिर तुमने पास पड़े एक पत्थर पर उस पेड़ पे हमारा नाम उकेर दिया था और कहा था की आज से ये ‘हमारा’ पेड़ है|

हमारा पेड़, जहाँ हम रोज़ आया करते थे स्कूल के बाद, याद है एक बार मास्टरजी ने पकड़ लिया था| तुम्हारे बापू ने तीन दिन तक तुम्हे घर में बंद रखा था और मेरे बाप ने मेरी जमके पिटाई करी थी| पर हमारा मिलना कभी नहीं रुका, और एक दिन नए मास्टरजी ने पकड़ा था| न जाने क्यूँ मुस्कुरा दिया थे वो, शायद वो भी किसी के साथ कभी इन पेड़ों की छाओं तले वक़्त बिताते थे|

याद है हर शनिवार को तुम मेरी पसंद के दाल चावल लाया करती थी अपने टिफिन में, कहती थी क्यूंकि हम रविवार को नहीं मिल पाएंगे इसलिए शनिवार का स्पेशल, और फिर चुप चाप बैठ मुझे खाता देख मुस्कुराती रहती थी तुम| हाँ और मुझे आज भी याद है, हर शनिवार घर जाने से पहले मेरे गाल को चूमके कहती थी “मुझे मिस करोगे न तुम?” और मैं इस डर में रहता था की कहीं तुम मुझे न भुला बैठो|

आज इन्ही पेड़ो को देख तुम्हारी फिर बहुत याद आ रही है, यहीं तो हम दोनों ने जाना था एक दुसरे के प्यार को और कसम भी खायी थी की शादी करेंगे तो एक दूसरे से वरना नहीं| देखो आज भी तुम्हारे इंतज़ार में बैठा हूँ|

जब कॉलेज गया था मैं, तब भी हम आखरी बार यहीं मिले थे| तुम्हारी आँखों में आंसू थमने का नाम ही नहीं ले रहे थे, याद है मेरा हाथ घंटो तक पकड़ कर बैठी रही थी तुम उस रात| और फिर उन्ही पेड़ों के नीचे ही हम सो गए थे, खैर सोये कहाँ थे बस जाग कर तारे देखे थे सारी रात | फिर सुबह जब तुम्हे बोला की मैं कॉलेज नहीं जाना चाहता, तो  मुझे चांटा मार कर तुमने कहा था “बुद्धू कॉलेज नहीं जाओगे, तो मेरे पिताजी  से मेरा हाथ कैसे मांगोगे| उन्हें तो एक पढ़ा लिखा दामाद चाहिए|” और जब मैंने तुम्हे साथ चलने को कहा, तो तुमने “पिताजी  अकेले पड़ जायेंगे” कह कर टाल दिया था|

देखो आज मैं शहर से वापस आ गया हूँ, ये पांच साल कैसे बीत गए पता ही नहीं चला| अब तो नौकरी भी मिल गयी है, और शायद मांगने लायक हो गया हूँ| चलोगी ना मेरे साथ तुम, जहाँ भी मैं ले जाऊं और बनोगी ना मेरा साथ, की कभी गर जो मैं गिर जाऊं| पांच साल हो गए तुम्हे देखे हुए, बस खतो के द्वारा ही तुम्हे जाना है इस समय में| क्या आज भी मुझे तुम उतना ही प्यार कर पाओगी? आज तुम्हे अपने गले लगाने के लिए मेरे पास एक हाथ कम है, क्या अभी भी मेरे गले लगना चाहोगी?

ये ख़त तुम्हारे दरवाजे पे छोड़ रहा हूँ| जो अभी भी अगर प्यार करती हो, तो आ जाना उन नारियल के पेड़ों के नीचे, इंतज़ार करूँगा तुम्हारा उसी फिरोज़ी शर्ट में जो तुमने मुझे कॉलेज जाते वक़्त दी थी|

इंतज़ार करूँगा तुम्हारा…

 

Photography by: Sarika Gangwal

Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

 

My morning raaga

No Name No Face: There’s something about backless dresses, Maybe it’s the element of surprise and the fact that from the front, a dress can look totally demure, yet a glimpse of the back reveals exposed skin and a nod to all that makes women alluring. I tried to give it a classical look! – Sarika

Another day, and another morning I’ll spend staring at her. While she sits in the veranda, and lets the sunrays reflect off her beautiful dusky skin. Creating a wonderful maze while making me explore her some more.

This has been a ritual from past few years, every morning she gets up early, takes bath, drapes herself in a piece of cloth and sits there. All this while thinking that I’m sleeping, but I’m not, how could I miss a chance stare at this marvel of nature every morning. Her free flowing hairs are trying to cover her smooth back, it still holds the imprints of my fingers. Her piquant face is staring into the oblivion as her appealing eyes still contains the recollections from last night.

I guess she knows that I am awake, and therefore, I think it’s her way of giving me an early morning gift. I don’t know, maybe, she just wants to spend some time alone and I don’t want to snatch that space from her. Like an emerald her eyes are shinning as she turned her gaze towards the sparrow sitting on the windowsill, I wonder what that sparrow might be thinking. I guess it might be wondering, if it has arrived in the heaven by mistake and is she a goddess?

A goddess with a smile so pure that it makes world a better place every morning. And her neck so alluring, which still doesn’t fail in making me fall into a well of cozy emotions, every time I kiss that slender piece of marvelous artistry.

Every morning as I search for her scent on the bed sheet, my thoughts debate amongst themselves because I am still undecided if she is a human or a fallen angel. Her touch does not feel like a human’s, it still ignites a fire in me whenever her thin and long fingers caress my hair. On the other hand, maybe she is an angel, because how else can I explain the sweetness in her voice that puts me to sleep every night.

I am looking at the mango tree in our courtyard dancing with the wind, I wonder if the tree dances like that every morning as soon as it gets her first glance. She is still lost in her thoughts; I guess she’s wondering how is she going to wake me up. Like every day, by covering my face with her hair, when as always I find myself surrounded by a mesmerizing darkness and then she places a kiss on my forehead, with her soft and enticing lips. Or is she going to make those random figures on my palm with her soft fingertips, she knows I love those innocent games she plays with me.

It has been fifteen minutes, since she is sitting in the verandah next to the lamp. I guess every morning the lamp derives its fire from her skin, and later radiate that brightness to light up our nights. Maybe, just like I derive my life from her presence, every day. In next few minutes, she will get up and walk towards the bed, her anklet will make a soothing sound, to make me aware of her arrival.

And she will walk like a song, a beautiful song with each of her body part creating a hypnotizing tune, and like every morning she will make me fall for her some more. She’s a beautiful song…

My morning raaga.

Photograph by: Sarika Gangwal

Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

Caterpillar and the cutest girl I have ever seen

Lying in the green grass on a December morning, she saw a caterpillar crawling towards her. She observed its movement as it surged towards an unknown destination.

“Atleast it’s still crawling,” she thought while wondering about the difference between herself and that tiny creature. She tried to smile but a tear rolled down her eyes wiping away all the hints of the smile.

Her beautiful skin was glinting the purest of sunrays, and her black hair were weaving magic around the guy sitting a stone throw’s distance from her. His gaze was fixed on her as he tried concentrating on the book he was reading.

She was lost in her own thoughts. Thinking about the days gone by, thinking about ‘him’.

5 and half years ago, when he proposed her in front of the whole batch; it felt like the happiest day of her life. She too loved him but never knew that the person she used to stare through her classroom’s window since her first day in college, would echo the same emotions. She had found a perfect lover in him, as she always wanted. College became an excuse to meet him, late-night phone calls  took place of her dream to be a designer; her grades dropped but their relationship grew from teenage lovers to fiancés.

She remembered the nights that she spent staring at the diamond ring he placed on her soft and slender fingers; everyone said that her fingers made the ring look even more beautiful. She also remembered the nights that she spent staring blankly at the ceiling after she found him in someone else’s arms, a month before their marriage.

Few more tear drops rolled down her cheek; they reflected the sunlight like a pearl into the eyes of the guy sitting nearby. He wanted to approach her, but something stopped him. He decided to observe the girl; he wanted to witness where the next few moments would take her.

She wiped those tears and continued staring at the caterpillar. It had encountered a stone in its way, just like the one she had encountered six months ago. As the caterpillar desperately tried to cross the stone unsuccessfully, her gaze became even more intense. She thought about the five years with her ex, when like an idiot, she threw away her dreams.

The caterpillar took notice of its surroundings, and realized crossing the stone was its only option, or else it would deviate from its path. It started crawling over the stone, again but unsuccessfully and fell down. She almost removed the stone but something stopped her. She decided to observe the creature; she wanted to witness where the next few moments would take it.

Caterpillar stayed immobile for few seconds, as if it was nursing its injuries and repeated the procedure. This time the tiny creature was successful, a faint smile appeared on her lips.

It was her 23rd birthday, as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. On that December morning, she felt alive once again as the sun had covered her in its warmth; she had finally freed herself from the shackles of his memories but most importantly she felt like smiling for the first time in last six months. Her bangles clinked, producing a beautiful sound as if to celebrate that moment.

She got up, and started walking towards her home. She took a few steps forward and glanced at the boy sitting nearby her. He was reading a book, A thousand splendid suns; it was her favourite novel and something she always wanted her ex to read. She knew that he was staring at her from past few minutes. Suddenly, his face appeared from behind the pages; it was sporting a charming smile. She replied back with one from her side.

“Home and birthday party can wait a bit more,” she thought as she walked towards him with butterflies in her stomach.  She was in love with herself, with the surroundings and I guess with the book reading guy as well. They were happy,

The caterpillar and the cutest girl I have ever seen.

 

Photography by: Sarika Gangwal

Written by: Abhinav Chandel

Nadaan Baarish

I was at Juhu everything was covered in little rain drops, it was drizzling. I was walking with my favorite coat as people rushed along, they began opening umbrella’s over their heads, while these two kids were all drenched and selling peanuts in the crowd. I wanted to give them my umbrella but when I asked they said, “No rain is FUN” 🙂 – Sarika

मेरे चेहरे पे अपने निशाँ छोड़ जाती
नादान बारिश
मेरे बिखरे हुए  ख्यालों में
तूफ़ान कुछ और जोड़ जाती
नादान बारिश

बचपन की दोस्तियों में मुस्कान भरती
नादान बारिश
उन बेवक्त आये आंसुओं को मुझसे फिर अनजान करती
नादान बारिश

छत्री के अन्दर छुपे मेरे बदन को
हलके से छूकर जाती
नादान बारिश
और उनके भीगे बदन को कुछ और गुदगुदाती
नादान बारिश

मूंगफली के उन दानो को और मीठा बनाती
नादान बारिश
मेरी अन छुई यादों की फिर एक स्लेट बन जाती
नादान बारिश

उनकी आँखों में फिर एक चमक लाती
नादान बारिश
उन मासूम चेहरों को और खूबसूरत बनाती
नादान बारिश

Mere chehre pe apne nishaan chhod jaati
Nadaan baarish
Mere bikhre hue khayaalon mein
Toofaan kuch aur jod jaati
Nadaan baarish

Bachpan ki dostiyon mein muskaan bharti
Nadaan baarish
Unn bewaqt aaye aansuon ko mujhse fir anjaan karti
Nadaan baarish

Chatri ke andar chupe mere badan ko
Halke se choo kar jaati
Nadaan baarish
Aur unke bheege badan ko kuch aur gudgudati
Nadaan baarish

Moongfali ke unn daano ko aur meetha banati
Nadaan baarish
Meri anchui yaadon ki fir ek slate ban jaati
Nadaan baarish

Unki aankhon mein fir ek chamak laati
Nadaan baarish
Unn masoom chehro ko aur khoobsurat banati
Nadaan baarish

Photograph by: Sarika Gangwal

Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

My Favourite Character

While exploring through the stack of books,
I felt a soul-piercing gaze on me.
And as I lift up my head,
I see these two eyes,
Right behind the rack where literature entwine
Staring right into mine.

I wonder is she the one
I have been searching all this while,
In the numerous books, in the various poems.
Is she the one, amidst the desert of my
Chaotic thoughts, calm and mesmerizing Nile.

I read those eyes,
And wonder what they are trying to whisper into mine.
I am confused, if I should ask what has been
Causing a commotion in my mind,
A question of the strangest kind.

Just then, she speaks to me.
As if she has already read my words
In a voice so soothing with those dark eyes shining bright,
“Yes I’m the one you were searching for all these years,
Your favourite character from the story you’re yet to write.”

And as I look back at her,
After collecting the blank pages
That just fell down my hands.

She has disappeared,
I guess somewhere into those blank pages
But I know I’ll meet her again one day.

My favourite character,
From the story I am yet to write

Photograph by: Sarika Gangwal
Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

Sardiyon Waali Dost

हर साल दिसम्बर के महीने
में वो यहाँ आती है
जैसे सर्दियाँ अपनी
मुट्ठी में भरकर लाती है

सुबह की चाय तब और अच्छी लगती है
जब हलके हलके कोहरे से
उसकी प्यारी सी मुस्कुराहट
झलकती है

दूर खड़े मुझे एक टक
देखती है वो
और मैं यहाँ चाय की दुकान से
उसे हर दिसम्बर की सुबह निहारता हूँ

एक अलग सी ख़ूबसूरती है उसके चेहरे में
जो मेरी हर सुबह को और खुशनुमा बना देती है
और इस खोये हुए से सर्द मौसम को
थोडा और दिलचस्प बना देती है

न जाने कहाँ से आती है
और एक महीने बाद
इस कोहरे की तरह
फिर कहाँ छुप जाती है

कभी नाम नहीं पूछा उसका
पर उसके किस्से हर किसी को सुनाता हूँ
और बातों बातों में कोई उसका नाम पूछले
तो उससे मैं अपनी,
सर्दियों वाली दोस्त कह कर बुलाता हूँ

Har saal December ke mahine
Mein woh yahan aati hai
Jaise sardiyan apni
Mutthi mein bharkar laati hai

Duur khade mujhe ek tak
Dekhti hai woh
Aur main yahan chai ki dukaan se
Usse har December ki subah nihaarta hun

Ek alag si khoobsurti hai uske chehre mein
Jo meri har subah ko aur khushnuma bana deti hai
Aur iss khoye hue se sard mausam ko
Thoda aur dilchasp bana deti hai

Na jaane kahaan se aati hai
Aur ek mahine baad
Iss kohre ki tarah
Fir kahaan chhup jaati hai

Kabhi naam nahin poocha uska
Par uske kisse har kissi ko sunaata hun
Aur baaton baaton mein koi uska naam poochle
Toh usse main apni,
Sardiyon waali dost keh kar bulaata hun
Photograph by: Sarika Gangwal
Written by: Abhinav Chandel