Vicharak

In the heart of the forest, by a railway line, Near the mines of coal so dark, yet fine, Stood a castle of brick and mortar white — My home, my haven, my soul’s delight. A mango tree shaded the courtyard ground, Night jasmine spread its scent all around. Animals wandered, birds took flight, Days were golden, and stars shone bright. Joyful mornings, skies so clear, Soulful evenings drawing near. Scorching summers, thunderous rain, Chilly winters, and spring again. Something in that fragrant air, Healed my heart and eased each care. Neither village nor town defined, That place was one of its kind. Its own dawn, its own twilight hue, A world I knew, so pure, so true. River, pond, and well were mine, We’d play, we’d pour, we’d rise, we’d shine. Each festival brought colors divine — Holi, Diwali, Chhath, Durga’s time. Grandparents weren’t stories told, They were the stories — wise and old. Their presence calm, their touch so kind, Their love still lingers in my mind. “Cricket!”, “I Spy!”, “...

 It was an ordinary evening in mid-March, the kind that feels full of possibilities. Our school exams were finally over, and freedom was in the air. We were restless — hungry for a little adventure. That’s when I suggested, “Let’s go to Boka Pahadi !” (The name roughly translates to Moron Hill , though we never really cared about what it meant.) So off we went — Harsh, Nitesh, Rohit, Ravi, and me — toward the rocky outskirts of Jharia. Boka Pahadi was a local favorite, a small hill that served as a picnic spot for families, and an open playground for brave kids like us. When we reached the top, the world below seemed calm, almost sleepy. The coal fields stretched far and wide, and the evening wind brushed against our faces as we explored the slopes, tossing pebbles and dreaming up silly games. Then someone — I don’t remember who — said, “Let’s race downhill and see who reaches first!” It sounded like the perfect idea at the time. Rohit went first. He was cautious, moving sl...

Childhood has a fragrance of its own — a blend of dust, laughter, and sunshine that never quite fades. People often say their childhood was wonderful, and so do I — because ours was painted with the simple joys of small-town life in Jharia. I was twelve then, a student of Class 6 at Kids Garden , one of the better-known schools in town. Every day, as the clock struck three, the bell would ring, and the schoolyard would burst into life. Bags were swung over shoulders, water bottles dangled by threads, and laughter rolled across the gate like an untamed tide. We were a small gang — Harsh, Nitesh, Rohit, and I. The world seemed complete with just us in it. Rohit and Nitesh were the entertainers — their banter so quick, so effortless, that it could give today’s stand-up comedians a run for their money. Some days, we’d stop by the vendor near the corner to buy kala amawat or ber . Two rupees — that was enough to buy a slice of joy for all of us. My home was the farthest, so I’d be the...

🔊 Listen to this Article It’s been long since we talked last, Years have slipped quietly past. The joy I felt seeing you arrive, Still echoes, still feels alive. But so does the ache of watching you go, A silent farewell I never chose to know. We stood together when no one stood by, Hearts unspoken, shoulders shared sighs. Then something shifted— perhaps life intervened, You drifted away, and I lived in between. You said it was your fault, yet I bore the cost— You held the laughter, I embraced the loss. But don't you worry, I’m doing just fine. The storms have passed, I've tasted sunshine. A journey of tears didn’t end in vain— Each wound carved strength, each scar bore gain. Now I dive deep, no longer watching the shore— Braver, freer, than ever before. Maybe we’ll meet in some time or place, Or maybe not— and that’s also grace. I wish for you joy, for all dreams fulfilled, For the heart you carry to be quiet and stilled.

मैं घर हूँ मैंने सब देखा है। उस नन्ही-सी जान का आना भी, और उस बड़े से आसमान का जाना भी। कई अंजान चेहरों को अपना बनते देखा मैंने, कई अपनों को नज़रों से गिरते देखा मैंने। मैं घर हूँ, मैंने सब देखा है। कई पतझड़ देखे, कई बारिशें देखीं, कभी तूफ़ान से, तो कभी मुस्कान से सावन देखे। मैंने तुम्हारे जीवन का हर वसंत देखा है। मैं घर हूँ, मैंने सब देखा है। तुम्हारे जाने पर उन बुज़ुर्ग आँखों में आँसू देखे, तुम्हारे आने पर उन थके चेहरों पर मुस्कान देखी। सब कुछ देखता हूँ, पर कुछ बोलता नहीं। तुम सोचते हो कि मैं कुछ समझता नहीं, जड़ हूँ, पर बेजान नहीं। मैं घर हूँ, मैंने सब देखा है। तुम तो रोकर कर लेते हो दिल हल्का किसी के जाने पर, मैं तो उसका भी हक़दार नहीं। टूट जाऊँगा मैं भी एक दिन, इस समय की मार से। घर ही हूँ, कोई भगवान नहीं। तुम न कहना कुछ, मैं सब समझता हूँ। मैं घर हूँ, मैं सब जानता हूँ।

अनजान ही था ये शहर, जिसे कुछ गैरों ने अपना बना लिया। आए कई लम्हे ऐसे, जब उदासी छाई थी घर की याद में, पर फिर भी वो ना थे हमसे दूर, उन्होंने ही इन लम्हों को हँसकर जीना सिखा दिया। तवज्जो तो नहीं दी हमने कभी किसी बात को, फिर कैसे इन गैरों ने मुझे अपना बना लिया? ये भूल थी मेरी या मैं नासमझ था, ये तो पता नहीं, पर कुछ तो बात थी... जो इन्होंने इस ज़िंदगी के सफर में हमें अपना हमसफर बना लिया। यूँ तो कहने को हैं बातें हज़ार, पर वो अल्फाज़ नहीं। गीत हैं कई इस दिल में, पर उन्हें गा पाऊँ, वो साज़ नहीं।