सियाचिन फ़तह - कहानी

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तापमान -40 डिग्री, कोहरे में लिपटे बादल...वहीं बर्फ की पहाड़ियों के बीच घुटनों पर रेंगती एक परछाई आगे बढ़ रही थी...उसकी सांसे जैसे गले से निकलकर होंठों पर जम गई...एक-एक कदम मानो मीलों का सौदा था...उसने गर्दन घुमाकर पीछे देखा..अपने 26 साथियों के अस्थाई बंकर से काफी दूर पहुँच गया था वह...दिल में एक संशय था..एक हल्की-सी पशेमानी.. “कहीं मैं भी एक तारीख बनकर न रह जाऊँ..?” लेकिन तिरंगे के सामने उठता हुआ सिर..उसके हिलते हुए विश्वास को फिर प्रज्वलित कर गया।

“सारे जहाँ से अच्छा...हिन्दोस्तां हमारा” तभी सामने से आती गोलियाँ उसके आस-पास बिखरी बर्फ को लाल कर चुकी थी। 

- अंकिता चौहान

P.s. : (आज सिरहाने के लिए)

RUN AWAY FROM...?

I am running away..

Running from the expressions hurting me most,

Running from the noises drilling my nerves,

Running from the shadows of secure life

Running from the stillness of embellished words

On that path I picked…The scattered pieces of my thoughts,

I tried to connect the beats—of every past moment

And after making a perfect picture,

I destructed that image simultaneously.

Is it so hard to rekindle the one—I lost once?

If you could find me somewhere…somehow

Will you return me—the real me?

Meanwhile,

I am running away from myself

I am running towards myself. 

- Ankita Chauhan 

VARIATIONS

It was early morning. Smoking blue sky was running out of gloves of black night. A misty figure, wrapped in human bones and some flesh was sitting on the edge of the road. His eyes were struck to the street art that was painted by leaves with the brush of dewdrops.

For a moment, a thought arouse in his hopeless eyes, his body shivered. Echoes of words, flashes of his stoned fate began to hover around his ragged soul.

“Stay...Stay away... You leech! ” A pious man pushed him aside and entered into the temple with folded hands. 

- Ankita Chauhan 

P.s - Wrote For OneFrameStories

इक सपने का सिरा..

Photo Credit: Google

पथराई नज़रों से देखा था मैंने तुम्हें

जैसे तुम मेरे जिस्म से जाँ खींच कर ले जा रहे थे 

उस तिरंगे की गुनगुनी चादर में लिपटा तुम्हारा धड़कता दिल

अब खामोश था।

तुम्हारे सुर्ख होंठो पर खिलती रेखा बता रही थी..

अपना सपना जिया था तुमने..

एक सपना जो तब शून्यता में विलीन हो गया था..

लोगों की नज़रों में बेबसी बिखरी थी

मेरी नज़रों में तुम्हारे जिंदादिल सपने का अधूरा सिरा

चार साल बीत गए..या मैं ही गुज़र गयी एक सदी की तरह्

पर वो तुम्हारा सपना...तुम्हारा वजूद जिंदा है..औ’ जिंदा रहेगा..

मेरी वर्दी बनकर..

- अंकिता चौहान 

(आज सिरहाने के लिए लिखी गई थी) 

MIGRATORY SOULS - A Note

No bird without flight—you said, I believed.  Your warm touch, entwined fingers assured me that a migratory bird found its solace. In the shadow of your interlaced breathes, I sensed the depth of love, a whole universe of dreams.  

Two unexplored paths were going to collide and starting a nameless journey. 

I'm not aware of any word, you pronounced but my name in your voice was enough—that echo in your eyes introduced me to golden sunlit meadows that urged for belonging. 

We are meant to be one—What if we symbolized as two different planets? 

- Ankita Chauhan 

P.s - Wrote for OneFrameStories

BIRD SONG - A Poem

And that morning

She leaned towards the gentler winds

Opened her clenching fists— maybe her trimmed feathers

And put a tiny step into realm of faith. 

Though tiny hesitation dangling on her breezy hopes,

 Yet she was craving for pain— Confronting with real ‘She’.

As the sun appeared,

She engulfed that numbness —with her opening arms

With a deep breath— she felt lighter

Floating like a feather,

Somewhere —gorgeously painted skin of nature

Helped her to conquer her world again,

With a new beginning —sailing with a new song.

- Ankita Chauhan 

Book Review: The Dogs I Have Kissed by Trista Mateer

Title: The Dogs I Have Kissed 

Author: Trista Mateer

Genre: Poetry

Publisher: Create Space

Rating: 4.5/5

Reading poetry seems like breathing, every word brings new breathe; every line brings new rhythmic expression. Sometimes you felt that flow of surprise in your veins and sometimes you just leave the things as they are, just to sense that specific poem.

Past Days I got the chance to read Trista Mateer, when her poetry book “THE DOGS I HAVE KISSED” selected by Goodreads as Poetry Book of the Year 2015. When some poet gets that much attention, World seems more beautiful. After all poetry is a way of living.

I don’t know how to exist properly

In the same space as someone

I don’t love anymore.

Here, I come to this book… It is collection of some poignant still wonderfully weaved emotions in a form of poems. These short gripping tales of love are that much addictive… you couldn’t lay your hands off. You got the chance to engulf beautifully woven emotions of love and bitterness, as rainbow of different lives. It’s not a mushy kind of poetry book— it will disturb you in a way, make you think about relations and left you with a feeling of aliveness, really a eye-opener.

Every poem is full of surprises— somewhere you found enthusiasm in love and sometimes you feel suffocation, a fire in your heart. The Way Trista expressed her intense emotions either it is being in love or pain of being apart, shows the growth of person as a poet. If I would confess honestly.. it is kind of poetry book everyone should must have…Such an Honest Expression 

I would like to share just one poem here…

Picking New Sheets

When I replace these, there’s no

going back.

When I throw these out,

the only thing that will remember

your small ragged-breath sleeping

will be me.

No more touch memory on my pillowcases.

No more “I can almost smell you.”

I think the walls

of this room have already forgotten

you used to breathe here.

About The Author

Trista Mateer is a writer and poet currently based outside of Baltimore, Maryland. She believes in lipstick, late nights, and the healing powers of a good Taylor Swift sing along. Known for her eponymous blog, she is also the author of three collections of poetry.

More of her work can be found at: tristamateer.com

Connect With her at Goodreads | Twitter

Affiliate link (Buy) : The Dogs I Have Kissed

A LITTLE BIT MORE LOVE - A Short Story

“Mommy! I have already pinned silver star and golden pearls on this pine tree.”  She muttered.

“Shh…Just close your eyes” Her mom replied.

“Is Christmas such a shy?” She pretended to hide her eyes with soft palms.

“Hmm... there is some rules should be followed before magic” Her mother said and unwrapped the box.

“eww..I was asking for white meow, snow-white” she cried.

“Sigh! Everyone was picking the white ones, and I thought my kid is generous, more comfortable in loving others despite of their appearance.  Aren’t you?

“Mommy….I quite like this one too.” She said with sparkling eyes.

- Ankita Chauhan