बिखरे पन्ने

Na mere lafzon me ho sakti hai, Na meri samajh me, Na meri pakad me ho sakti hai, Na mere sainyam me. Bas yoni me basti hai, Mere mardaangi ki nishaani? Jo nicha bole wo mard nahi, Jo ankhon se ro de wo mard nahi, Jo haath utha de to thik, Par khada na ho to mard nahi. Dikhti ye mardaangi nahi, Jab maa ka dil shehma ho, Dikhti ye mardaangi nahi, Jab cheenkhta andhera ho. Jab behen sasuraal chod aa jaye, Ya bistar pe koi bhi farma jaaye, To chinkh uthti hai ye mardaangi, Apni taaqat ko dikhlaane ko. Hai mard yehi to kya mard hai? Ho dard nahi to kya jivan hai? Mardaangi to dekh li bohot, Kya insaaniyat ab bhi baaki hai?

That you have not yet seen, When we fight and scream, And I desperately try to win. Hurting and tormenting your soul, I cry with you in this pain, still, I shout and scream Breaking those perpetual dream Turning hopes into misery Shattering the acts of destiny I care… but I can’t see. That Ugly face of me, No one hates more than me. But it is perhaps a part of me, Which can trouble you or make you scared, Which can make you regret and Think I don’t care. But I do, I always do. I look at you and I want to protect you, To shield you, from the many menaces, Not because you can’t do it, But because I want to be the one doing it. Strangely, I don’t know how to protect you from myself. Doomed by the congenital insecurity, Perhaps, that ugliness races in me. I live with it and still be who I truly want to be. I can understand if you can’t accept what you have not seen yet.