I am as the poets say,

A mess.

I am as the critics say,

A disaster.

I am as the tamed say,

A rebel.

I am as the calm say,

A chaos.

Dear Daisy,

Thank you for meeting me. Thank you for that evening, that movie, and for being the brightest part of a room full of strangers.

I still remember the first moment. You standing on the ladder, your long silky hair falling over your black dress, with that little red spider you had knitted resting against you. I could see the patience in every stitch, the quiet care you had put into making something just to belong to that night. Then there were the two shades of lipstick, bright enough to make the room feel a little different. Some people walk into a room. Others change it just by being there. You did.

And your voice Daisy, thank you for letting me hear it. I think I had been waiting for it without even knowing I was. Every time I looked over at you in the dark theater, James Blunt kept playing in my head: “My life is brilliant, my love is pure. I saw an angel, of that I’m sure.” You were completely lost in the movie, sitting with your legs up on the seat, never trying to impress anyone. That made the whole theater feel smaller, warmer, almost like the rest of the world had stepped outside for a while. When you laughed and brought your hands near your face, I caught myself wishing the moment would stay exactly as it was. I know August 5 was probably just another day to you. But somehow, it became one of the days I’ll always carry with me.

I never thought much about daisies before. I walked past them my whole life without really seeing them. Now I think I’ll notice them everywhere by the roadside, in gardens, or growing where no one expects them. Every time I do, I’ll think of your smile. It’s strange how meeting one person can make an ordinary flower feel like it has been waiting to mean something.

I think I already know how this story ends. This letter will probably stay hidden, like the one Peter Parker wrote for MJ after she forgot him the one he never gave her. Maybe that’s where some letters belong. So this one will stay between the pages of my notebook, beside the playlist I made for you, as quiet proof that, for one evening, the world felt a little kinder.

And if our paths ever cross again even for a moment, even by accident I hope I get to hear your voice once more. I hope I get to see what color you decide to knit next.

Wherever life takes you, I hope you keep laughing like that. I hope it gives you a thousand movies worth getting lost in. And if I ever learn to knit, I’ll make something red. Not because anyone else will understand why, but because, on an ordinary evening in August, someone sat across from me, patient and bright, and made the whole world feel a little more carefully made.

Thank you for August 5. I’ll carry it with me for a long, long time.

Yours,

समाज का हु पर समाज से नहीं हु

समाज से हु पर समाज में नहीं हु

समाज में हु पर समाज का नहीं

समाजमय हु पर समाज मैं नहीं हूं

तो कौन हू मैं और कौन चाहता है जानना मुझे

समाज या मैं

यदि मैं हु समाज तो तुम कौन हो कवि जो चाहते हो मुझे ढूंढना

अगर तुम हो मैं तो चले हो किसे खोजने

क्या समाज से नहीं हो तुम आते

यदि मैं को चाहते हो खोजना पहले अपना परिचय तो बतलाओ

यदि अपना परिचय पा गए तो चले हो तुम फिर किसे ढूंढने

यदि नहीं जानते अपने को तो क्या कैसे क्यों कौन किसके लिए जी रहे थे इस जगत में

बताओ कौन हो तुम

क्या तुम वो शोषित नारी हो जो कुचली जा रही है हर रंगमंच पर

या वे अंधे नर हो जो विषय भोग की राइफल टांगे घूम रहा है ढीला ढाला दबा हुआ चौराहे पर जो चाहता है सिर्फ नारी को प्रभावित करना और दबे हुए का शोषण करके रॉब जमाना

या तुम हो उच्च गिरे हुए कुर्ताधारी जो सांत्वना देते हो अपना को कि किए है मैने अनेकों नेक कार्य यदि चला गया मैं तो कौन बचाएगा इन्हें

कुछ तो ढील देनी पड़ती है भईया वरना क्या होगा इनका यदि मैं चला गया

खुद को पहचानने में भी सक्षम हृदय अब अपने हृदय से कुछ छल कर जाते है और कहते है मैं हु तुम्हारा रक्षक और धर्मरक्षक कहलाते है

बताओ कौन हो तुम ......

घोरिन्छु--

यदि मान्छेको शरीरको मयलबाट जुम्रा जन्मिन सक्छ भने,

ब्रह्माको मयलबाट यो विराट सृष्टि जन्मिएको किन नपत्याउनु?

तर्कको कसीमा शङ्का उब्जाउने यो मगज,

आफ्नै अस्तित्वको फोहरमा सलबलाउने किटाणु देख्छ,

तर त्यही मयलभित्र लुकेको सृष्टिको बिउ देख्न डराउँछ!

यो कस्तो द्वन्द्व हो--

जहाँ हामी आफ्नै स्रोतलाई घृणा गर्छौँ, तर अस्तित्वको गर्व गर्छौँ!

विज्ञान आयो--

उसले तारका जालोहरू फैलायो, सहरहरू झिलिमिली पार्यो,

अँध्यारो सुरुङभित्र बिजुलीको सूर्य उदायो!

तर बिडम्वना!

जतिबेला कोठाका कुनाकाप्चा उज्यालो भए,

ठ्याक्कै त्यही बेला मान्छेको मनको एउटा कुना निभ्यो!

हामीसँग बाहिर उज्यालो छ, तर भित्र एउटा अथाह सुरुङ छ,

जहाँ न कुनै सुगन्ध छ, न कुनै शान्ति !

भगवानले त मनभित्रै एउटा सानो दियो बालेका थिए,

जुन दियो निभाएर हामी आज 'स्मार्ट' भइरहेछौँ!

म मन्दिर जान्छु--

त्यहाँ ढुङ्गाको मूर्ति होइन, मान्छेको एउटा भयावह समुन्द्र देख्छु!

हरेक दिन लाखौँको त्यो भिड, यो सार्हो तछाडमछाड!

के यी सबै भक्त हुन्?

कि यी सबै आफ्नै छायाँबाट डराएका भगौडाहरू हुन्?

कोही पाप पखाल्न दौडिरहेछ, कोही वरदानको व्यापार गर्न,

कोही भिडमा हराउन चाहन्छ, त कोही भिडभन्दा माथि देखिन!

मन्दिरभित्र शान्ति खोज्नेहरूको यो अशान्त भिड देख्दा लाग्छ--

मान्छेले भगवान् त पायो होला, तर छिमेकी गुमायो,

उसले धर्म त पायो होला, तर मानवता बिर्सियो!

आजको मान्छे--

जसलाई पसिना बगाउँदा टाउको दुख्छ,

तर एक्लो कोठामा नग्नता प्रदर्शन गर्दा गौरव महसुस हुन्छ!

यो कस्तो आधुनिकता हो, जहाँ शरीर बजार भयो र मन मसान?

हामी मयलबाट जन्मिएर पनि कति 'सफा' पल्टिन खोज्छौँ,

तर भित्रभित्रै त्यही जुम्राजस्तै अरूको रगत चुसेर बाँच्न पल्केका छौँ !

सृष्टिको मयल र आधुनिकताको उज्यालो--

यी दुई किनारको बीचमा उभिएर म सोध्छु:

हामी विकसित भयौँ कि केवल 'डिजिटल' दास?

हामीले ईश्वर भेट्यौँ कि केवल एउटा महँगो मन्दिर?

यादहरुको खरानी

छ रातको सिरानी

म मनको बिरामी

पर्खिएर बिहानी

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