I am just a stroke of little shades that are not much important in a painting.
I was wrong. Fact is, any painting could be just as beautiful without few shades.
By this window as I see the surrounding playing to the tunes of rains; I realize something strange.
As the wind makes me uneasy and comfortable; I realize something strange.
As I lay here in a low lit room;
As my body wanders here to find its own soul; I realize something strange.
I realize I was wrong again.
I ain’t even that unimportant shade. I ain’t a color.
As the artist drew this window;
I was still that wind.
The very wind that did blew the curtains of the window,
The very wind that played a song for rains to dance.
And the wind which would make someone like me to think.
Of course I ain’t an important shade or color.
But as the artist draws a flying curtains;
I realize what I am.
I ain’t a shade. I now know.

– Shama Javkar


Phir ek din pahunch he gaya mai uske sheher,
Vo to nahi, per na jane vahan jaakar kyu apna apna sa lagta hai,
Kisse toh bohot hain hamari mulaakaton ke,
Vo bhi vahin, mai bhi vahin, phir bhi na jaane kyu,
sab adhura adhura sa lagta hai.