वो माँ हैं।

मेरे आँसु को भी मुस्कुराहट में तब्दील कर देतीं,
वो माँ हैं, मैंने बेइंतिहा ग़म में भी उन्हें कभी मायूस नही देखा।

मेरी नाकामियों पर भी मुझसे नाउम्मीद नही होतीं,
वो माँ हैं, मैंने ज़िन्दगी की आज़माइश में उन्हें कभी थकते नहीं देखा।

मेरी नासमझ नाराज़गी पर भी मुझसे कभी ख़फ़ा नहीं होतीं,
वो माँ हैं, मैंने दिल टूटने पर भी उन्हें कभी शिकायत करते नहीं देखा।

मेरी हल्की सी ख़रोंच पे भी परेशां हो जातीं,
वो माँ हैं, मैंने बेहद दर्द में भी उन्हें कभी रोते नहीं देखा।

मेरे खवाबों को अपनी ज़िंदगी का मक़सद बनातीं,
वो माँ हैं, मैंने ख़ुद के लिए उन्हें कभी कोई ख़्वाहिश करते नहीं देखा।

वो माँ हैं.....

© Sheerin Naz.

अक्सर याद आती हैं।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जहां कहानियां हज़ार है दोस्तों से मुलाकात की,
कुछ कर गुजरने की जज़्बात की।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जहां ख्वाबों का आगाज़ हुआ,
ख़्वाहिशों का परवाज़ हुआ।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जहां कभी खुद को खो के भी ढूंढ लिया था,
और ज़ार ज़ार रो के भी हंस लिया था।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जहां मौके थोड़े कम ज़रूर, लेकिन रास्ते बेशुमार थे,
मंज़िल की जुस्तुजू भी थी, और हौसले बेअख्तियार थे।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जहां दिलों में कोई ख़ौफ़ न था,
नफरोतों का कोई दौड़ न था।

अक्सर याद आती हैं अपने शहर की वो बेतरतीब गलियां,
जो उस बड़े शहर की बुलंदी तक तो ले गयी,
लेकिन, ख़ुद कहीं पीछे रह गयी।

© शीरीं नाज़।

Just a girl.

She was just a girl who loved herself a little too much. You call her self obsessed, arrogant and rude? Maybe you were wrong at judging her so quick. For, you saw only what she portrayed.

You didn't notice her long, slow walks by the beach where her silence did all the talking. You didn't notice how she smiled and entangled her hair while getting lost with the ushering wind. You didn't notice how she walked past the garden, stopping once in a while to reflect on the beauty of the nature. You didn't notice how she loved her coffee while enjoying the rainy days by her window side. You didn't notice how she burst out laughing while playing with random kids in the corridor. You didn't notice how she smiled through tears when melancholy hit her hard. You didn't notice how she picked up her broken pieces everyday and stood intact. Your didn't notice the million stories her brown eyes were yearning to speak. You didn't notice her at all.

Her story was much more than you could ever know and, much deeper than your imagination.

Still willing to judge her?

Well, nevermind!

© Sheerin Naz.

Goodbyes are beautiful.

I have often been advised to “let go” the person, memories and moments that once were a profound part of my life, but are just a part of my prose and poetry now. However, I fail to agree with the concept of “letting go”. I can't just break all ties and move ahead. Goodbyes work better for me. If you wish to leave, don't tell me to “let go”, just smile and bid adieu.

You ask me “What's the difference?” Well, letting go closes all the doors. Once you let go, you give up on that person. You no longer wish to keep a track of their whereabouts. You get okay with their non-existence. You see them after years out of nowhere and walk past, denying their presence, making it all bitter and cold. And, this the last thing I would ever wish to do. Goodbyes are my thing. It lets you cling to an unfathomable hope. The hope of accidentally bumping into you in the middle of the road, few years down the line and sharing a warm smile while reminiscing the good old days. And, not to forget to steal occasional glances of each other. So, you see, goodbyes are heartbreaking yet beautiful, letting go isn't.

© Sheerin Naz.

Perfect misfit.

I have never been the person who fits in the crowd. I look around and observe everyone. People lost in conversations, everywhere. Some talk about life, some share their dreams and some have their opinions on almost everything. I find nothing profound in these conversations. They seem in a hurry to prove some point. Everyone is talking, but sadly no one listens. I smile as I drift away silently from this "I know it all" crowd. Nobody really notices my absence. I am glad they don't. I don't belong here. I never did.

I am more of a "let's get into a soul stirring conversation and know each other" and less of a "let's be social because that's how it works" person. I am a perfect misfit in this imperfect world and, could I be anymore happier? Certainly not.

© Sheerin Naz.

Crazy yet happy.

They say "I am lonely".

"I am alone, not lonely". I smile and nod in disagreement

"What's the difference?" They smirk.

"When you're lonely, you crave for company while being alone is itself complete. It gives you a sense of solace.  Loneliness isn't a choice, aloneness is." I smile some more as I reflect on the profoundness of life.

"You sound crazy". They judge me.

"Crazy yet happy, ever felt that?" Sarcasm works for me at times.

I see them walk away. Not their fault though. They have wore masks all their lives. I wish someday they realise that being normal or crazy doesn't guarantee happiness, being yourself does.

© Sheerin Naz.

The rain drops and starry nights.

It's raining since a while. A look towards the sky and, I witness the whole universe trying to find its place in my deep brown eyes. I blink. The stars blink with me. The moon seems to be enjoying this little rendezvous of ours. Such dark nights embedded with stars make me smile. The rain drops heal my scars. Its melody soothes my soul.

And, people tell surviving is difficult. Is it? Certainly not. With such beauty around me, I can endure it all and still be hopeful.

© Sheerin Naz.

Wrecked yet beautiful.

She walks around carelessly with no clue about her destination. A little lost, she fumbles at places. Her eyes narrate some long forgotten story of melancholy while she tries covering it with happiness and,  smiles in the middle of nowhere. A sad soul with an enchanting smile. Could broken look anymore beautiful? Probably not.

At times, she is found sitting amidst the sea shores. With a little ripped notebook in her hand, she seems to be having profound conversations with the sea waves. Every time the waves touch her feet and goes back, she scribbles something in those worn out pages. What could it be? Maybe, she inks about her dreams, her emotions, her desires that come out of oblivion with the ushering sea waves. The storms of life might have wrecked her but, her soul doesn't belittle her.

You know who she is?

She is the kind of girl who loves the imperfect self, owns up her mistake and proudly flaunts her scars.

She is the kind of girl who doesn't make ordinary look beautiful. For, she believes that “ordinary is beautiful”.

© Sheerin Naz.