बिखरे पन्ने

मैं हगा! और ऐसा हगा, की साला पहली बार डालने में नहीं - - निकालने में मज़ा आ रहा था| ये तो जीवन सत्य लगने लगा | - कुछ भी कर लो, हगोगे ही तुम| एक आज़ादी का एहसास हुआ, जब ताल बंधी सी टूटने लगी, सांस गले से छूटने लगी आह बनकर। शरीर के साथ-साथ आत्मा को भी कुछ हल्का सा एहसास दे गई। ये टट्टी।

Nature’s my mother, And I am her ungrateful son, Who Pollutes, Populates and Poisons The womb that flowered this heaven.   Desire is my Step-Father, And I have been so loyal to him, I followed his every command, But he always had one more demand.   ‘I’ is the so-called son I adopted, And He resembles me as they say, Spends all his time facing the mirror, To look good – better than others.   One dark day, Father commanded to whip my mother.   Lash in my hand, Afar she was standing sad, Tears rolled down her cheeks, When she asked, “Son, couldn’t you save me?”   I begged my Father and my child prodigy, To save one life – have some mercy, But they laughed in chorus together, Impatient, their longing grew stronger.   Helpless, I ripped her apart in one blow. Silent, Her Scream, echoed forever.

​Read it, slowly… Let’s start with drama in a box, Only your imagination can outline it. Imagine a box. What shape did you imagine? No, not a cuboid, you can do better. Will it be made of wood? Can it be made of anything at all? Now, What will be inside that box? Of course you, being the doer. And of course darkness, because the box is way too bigger than your knowledge. In this box of vast emptiness, Where your voice can echo throughout eternity, You’re standing somewhere, Don’t think in the center, you can do better. You can see, but there is nothing to be seen, You can smell, but you can’t identify, You can breathe, but you aren’t aware of it, You can act, but you don’t know on what! A day passes, lonely and gloomy, And you realize you don’t feel hungry in this box, Another day passes, trying to touch nearby things, And you realize that there is nothing to be touched. Another day passes, you decide to end it, ...