Stood in the way

I would have been a poet, but
This Love stood in the way.
I would have died in name of Love,
but Life stood in the way.

The story of my Life was frayed.
It would have stayed the same.
But thirst to win a moment’s worth,
again stood in the way.

All ports I searched to find no drop
of victory anywhere.
I’d search some more except my own
indigence stood in the way.

I’d saved some money turning nights
to days and days to nights.
I’d settled in the job, until
my blues stood in the way.

All mornings and all evenings
I thought of suicide.
I’d gone to buy some Death, but then
a girl stood in the way.

She taught me how to live again.
She tried to live with me.
I wasn’t ready for her yet,
Conceit stood in the way.

Collecting grains of broken heart
She went her way again.
I tried to call her back, except
Silence stood in the way.

In silence and in loneliness,
No clue what I’d have done.
But thankfully my poetry,
Misra, stood in the way.

bīch mein ā gayī

ban-nā mujhe shāyar tha āshikī bīch mein ā gayī
Fanā ishK mein honā thā zindagī bīch mein ā gayī

shikastgi si merī ye zindagānī thī magar
pal bhar jīt ke jīne kī tishnagī bīch mein ā gayī

ghāt ghāt dhūndhā magar ik būnd Fateh kī na milī
Talāsh jārī rakhtā par muFlisī bīch mein ā gayī

rāt kā din aur din ki rāt karke paise jod liye kucH
jam chukā tha naukrī mein māyusī bīch mein ā gayī

har subah har shām bas Khudkushī ke khayāl aaye
maut lene chalā hi thā ajnabī bīch mein ā gayī

jīna fir sikhāyā usne jīnā sāth mein chāhti thī
Main nahīn tayyār tha aur KhudGarzī bīch mein ā gayī

dil ke reze baTor kar wo chal di apne hi rāste
sochā nām pukārūn par Khamoshī bīch mein ā gayī

Khamosh bhī main tanhā bhi na jāne kyā kyā kar jātā
shukar manāo ‘Misra’ shairī bīch mein ā gayī

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