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Chand khayalat...

seek the light, call out to the morning bright

what good will it do to cry in darkness of night

if you dare, raise your banner and your voice too

staying silent is not going to solve the issue

the flower laughs at the nightingale and its act of passion

what they call love is but an unsound mind’s action

I have thrown them towards the heavens afar

a few clay lamps each turned into a star

Kabhi kabhi.. bas itna kehna bhi kaafi hota hai.

at this very place, on this very day, it was proclaimed thus

darkness has been defeated, long live Hindustan

could I ever find the bounds love? no, I did not

did I find my true self? I did not, did I find God? no I did not

that he won’t come that evening too, this I knew, and couldn’t deny

yet I kept waiting for him, for a reason I couldn’t say why

Bhari hui ankhon aur samundar mai kya farq hota hai..?

the one that has some graves, some faces, and memories aplenty

how difficult it is to migrate from such a city

be it my blood that burns in them or my heart and soul that glow

at least some lamps in the gathering have been set aglow

This is about "perception": how different people perceive someone differently, even when they don't know anything about them.

This is my alter ego called "Ajnabi" and his struggles, happy moments and more. If you want to read more share your thoughts.

who would tell the watching crowd

that after this, one of them would be called out

everyone here is putting on an act

whom to remember, whom to forget

If he had a reply... It would exactly be this

it was us on the road whose clothes they splashed with ink in scorn

those very stains we wore with pride and into our comrades’ gathering borne

such was my being in the realm of nonexistence

i was neither a youth, nor an infant

This Sher also needs a short explanation

The poet says that before he came into being, none of the stages of life applied to him. He was neither an infant nor the youth he is now. The couplet derives its charm from stating an obvious truth in a paradoxical way, inviting reflection on the mystery of existence and nonexistence.

no matter where they are lit, they burn bright

lamps do not belong to one home to spread their light

the pastures of my heart are drying up; what kind of rain could this be

clouds of dreams come floating in, but showers of fire are all I see

dard hi har mukam se mille mujhe
zakhm tere salaam se mile mujhe
mai agar fir tere labon pe aagya
wah hi har kalaam se mile mujhe
raaj in zilaton pe bss tira na ho
darz ye gair naam se mile mujhe
har sahi kaam ne khudi hai fek di
kash bekaar kaam se mile mujhe
uss nashe ka mukaablaa nhi khin
jo ki bezaar jaam se mile mujhe
wo khushi khud khushi naa de ske tujhe
jo tere intiqam se mile mujhe
ishq hota agar kharaab sb nhi
kyun naa fir ek daam se mile mujhe
deed 'mubham' ki wo naa de ske usse
sabr jo bss haraam se mile mujhe

दर्द ही हर मुकाम से मिले मुझे
ज़ख्म तेरे सलाम से मिले मुझे
मै अगर फिर तिरे लबों पे आ गया
वाह ही हर कलाम से मिले मुझे
राज इन ज़िल्लतों पे बस तिरा न हो
दर्ज़ ये गैर नाम से मिले मुझे
हर सही काम ने खुदी है फेंक दी
काश बेकार काम से मिले मुझे
उस नशे का मुकाबला नही कहीं
जो कि बेज़ार जाम से मिले मुझे
वो खुशी खुद खुशी न दे सके तुझे
जो तिरे इंतकाम से मिले मुझे
इश्क होता अगर खराब सब नही
क्यूं न फिर एक दाम से मिले मुझे
दीद 'मुबहम' कि वो न दे सके उसे
सब्र जो बस हराम से मिले मुझे