Gulzar Quotes

When you face your fear, you become familiar with it and familiarity makes it lose its meaning, loosen its grip—fear ceases to be fear.

उम्मीद भी है, घबराहट भी कि अब लोग क्या कहेंगे, और इससे बड़ा डर यह है कहीं ऐसा ना हो कि लोग कुछ भी ना कहें!! गुलज़ार

I had spent the day friendless, lonely and sad, a stranger to myself. After drowning the day on the sea shore, I walked back to my empty house on the deserted street. The moment I opened the door, the book on my table flipped its pages and said: "Friend, Where were you for so long?

Dreams heed no borders, the eyes need no visas With eyes shut I walk across the line in time All the time—

Hazaron khwahishen aesi, ke har khwahish pe dam nikle Bahut nikle mere arman, lekin phir bhi kam nikle.

किताबें मांगने, गिरने, उठाने के बहाने रिश्ते बनते थे उन का क्या होगा......

I thought that you could hear all my unspoken words.....for I misunderstood the language of my own love was so intense and your ears were so brittle!

The wounds will take decades to heal, centuries to overcome the trauma.

किताबों से कभी गुजरो तो यूँ किरदार मिलते हैं, गए वक्तों की ड्योढ़ी में खड़े कुछ यार मिलते हैं, जिसे हम दिल का वीराना समझकर छोड़ आये थे, वहाँ उजड़े हुए शहरों के कुछ आसार मिलते हैं !!

Our freedom walk is adorned by the schools that we have burned, embellished by the eyes that no longer see and haunted by the wails of half widows that we left to be damned! Let go. Be free.

चाँद के माथे पर बचपन की चोट के दाग़ नज़र आते हैं रोड़े, पत्थर और ग़ुल्लों से दिन भर खेला करता था बहुत कहा आवारा उल्काओं की संगत ठीक नहीं—! 32

Caught between the extremes of mind , in a suspended state of " grey" Illusions, a peculiar sense of " pseudo-reality " , tormenting oneself in the realms of sanity . Like a solo soldier , standing against the times of conformity ... I stand, With the blood of warrior in my veins , I am forever " unbreakable".

Killing children in kashmir is LEGAL while Fighting for basic human rights is ILLEGAL. I think it's time , all of us collectively did an introspection at what is RIGHT as Opposed to what is LEGAL.

Following our " own" we marched on towards our own holocaust , our own extinction. For we forgot that entrapped in our own mind are the seeds of a clueless "kamikaze " which will bring this nation to its doom !

Ghar mein tha kya jo tera gham usay gharat karta? Woh jo hum rakhte the ik hasrat-e tamir, so hai." "What did we have at our home that your sorrow could wreck? All we had was a desire to create, and that is still there.

And then the very next day it was a weekend and every one forgot about the little boy who was 7 feet under for the price he paid to be born in the land of infidels , and life as always ....carried on with the stench of dead conscience . Period

60 days of hyper delirium. 60 days of insatiable pain and we are, where we were! . The cruel fact is that the truth exposes the ugly side of us so deeply, that we find solace in the last defence hiding behind the carefree facade of this never-ending insanity.

The self centred disregard for anything living outside of me , is pure solipsism. One may feel the world is pure evil but its " I  " who filters the thought through "my "own un - coping mind, seeking complete annihilation of the world for my own self relief !  

सामने आए मेरे, देखा मुझे, बात भी की मुस्कुराए भी, पुरानी किसी पहचान की ख़ातिर कल का अख़बार था, बस देख लिया, रख भी दिया English Translation- Met me, saw me, spoke with me Smiled as well, for the sake of an old relationship Yesterday's newspaper, seen and put aside

The powerful alchemy of his storytelling transforms the atthanni—the half a rupee coin—into a rupaiya.

good storyteller is the conscience-keeper of a

A good storyteller is the conscience-keeper of a nation.

The importance of a story doesn't merely lie in the development of its plot and the characters involved in it, but in its exploration of the consciousness ...

ज़मीं भी उसकी, ज़मीं की ये नेमतें उसकी ये सब उसी का है, घर भी, ये घर के बंदे भी ख़ुदा से कहिये, कभी वो भी अपने घर आये!

इल्म तो मिलता रहेगा बाद में भी मगर वो जो किताबों में मिला करते थे सूखे फूल और महके हुए रुक़्के किताबें मांगने, गिरने, उठाने के बहाने रिश्ते बनते थे उनका क्या होगा?

किताबें झांकती हैं बन्द अलमारी के शीशों से बड़ी हसरत से तकती हैं महीनों अब मुलाक़ातें नही होतीं जो शामें इन की सोहबत में कटा करती थीं, अब अक्सर गुज़र जाती हैं ‘कमप्यूटर’ के पर्दों पर बड़ी बेचैन रहती हैं किताबें…. इन्हें अब नींद में चलने की आदत हो गई है बड़ी हसरत से तकती हैं, ज

Losing the plot again to the rhetoric called "Azadi". Trapped in a "Status quo"of fragmented reality , we eroded the seeds to our future.(yet again). Somehow (I) forgot that - Actions have consequences. Non actions have "deadly " consequences too & turning blind eye to something so obvious will eventually produce the generation of "vision less society". (Literally and figuratively).

In the stillness of my mind , I surrender to a place I call "my own"....Where everything that I see ,is real ,and every thing that I don't ,doesn't exist! Yet , in that very stillness I find my mind drifting in search of solace and when I open my eyes ,I find myself in the Elysian Fields of my existence !

आसान नहीं था इस तरह अपनी जड़ें छोड़ कर चल देना। और उस पर ये भी पता नहीं था। कहाँ और कैसे बीजे जायेंगे। बीजे जायेंगे भी या नहीं। पेड़ से टूटी शाख़ों को अक्सर देखा था, धूप में सूखते, टूटते और फिर गर्द में रुल जाते ! !

By sheer faith the walls of Jericho had fallen , after they were encompassed for about seven days, while,we weren't able to achieve the " so called " attainable freedom of mind ,within 7 prolonged months ! The question is , do we have the faith alive in us or alike everything tangible ,we lost it somewhere while creating a momentary deception amongst us ?

He was exhausted ,tired to his core , The 'weight' of the world was crushing his soul! He carried so much , Within him , for so so long . "Beast of burden" - that's what he was! His rugged face filled with battle scars  That only 'he' could feel The "smile" he wore was a 'helmet' ... Waiting for his breath to escape for good  Praying for his final relief.

And so the 5 months of hyper nationalism bites the chilly winter frost! The 5 point plan got so shady that even the murkiest water of dal couldn't wash the blot on our conscience, proving yet again the resilience of a common Kashmiri to withstand economic doom and social ambiguity from past 140 days and still have Herculean courage to start all over . .... from the grounds up !

Am I brave enough? What is brave? Is bravery counted by the medals, proudly on display on a soldier’s uniform or is it in laying down your life for something bigger than yourself. Is bravery in holding tight or letting go? For some, bravery is in standing against the world for your Principle …. For me bravery is living each day of my life for the sake of something greater than myself.

In the randomness of thoughts I couldn't help but think that at times of adversity most of us compromise our greatest talents and run after what we perceive to be more achievable success and in this paradox we end up with a discontented settlement. Safely cocooned in our comfort zone . Stable .... Without any progression ! Am I the only disbeliever to believe that two hands working can do more than a thousand clasped in prayer...oxymoron !

For me not to be insane , I had to be either sedated by my “ happy pill” or be activated by my hyper work mode. These were the only two responses my mind was known to react. Everything in between was a mundane distraction. A numb bliss , that annihilated everything rational that ever existed in my universe.

An eternity gone by ,in this solitude, A confinement within my mind , to endure through life. Isolation , they say, is a gift that only the strongest possesses. Breaking the norms of conformity . Insane, am I?  For , to be accepted , I need to be part of " them ". I am an anarchy and the anarchist , I am, my ,own " God".

The thread of shattered hopes covered us with the masquerade of betrayal. As always we will start picking up the pieces of our worthless life, scattered over the last 150 days in the hope of deliverance. With so many of us blinded for life ,some of us taken away for life all together, (you broke your promise once again), And I shall close the eyes of my conscience so that I don’t introspect about the distrust, long term suffering we will have to endure ,for we will always remain the nation of the suppressed! Promises and lies!!

Tell me your dark secrets and I shall tell you mine, and in the darkest part of our existence , our souls will find their salvation in each other!

That which passes, isn't time. You and I are transitory, time is eternal. Or rather, it passes and is yet eternal.

The cruel truth exposes the ugly side of us so deeply that we find solace in the last defence hiding behind the facade of our insanity.

I don not know what pain is harder now...the one that I have lost you for good...the one that I ll miss you for ever...the one that it was just a dream...

A century gone by and still the wounds remain fresh , the problem unresolved and a zillion questions unanswered. The subliminal hyper nationalist state with so maligned dynamics that a simple wrong step is enough to wake the beast from its simmering slumber and throw the entire nation into whirl pool of unaccounted casualties.... A millions lives lost , businesses uprooted and educations at stake ...this is a jinxed paradise where the wails of the half widows reach the heavens and bring nothing but sorrow. Legend has it that this place will be swallowed in one great leap of water as we will self annihilate everything and thus life will complete its full circle. "Cursed be the ground for our sake. Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for us. For out of the ground we were taken, for the dust we are... and to the dust we shall return

For me not to be insane , I had to be either sedated by my “ happy pill” or be activated by my hyper work mode. These were the only two responses my mind was known to react. Everything in between was a mundane distraction. A numb bliss , that annihilated everything rational that ever existed my universe.

Sometimes. I wish , if only you could listen to things that I cannot say! I wish , you could feel what is in my heart? I wish , I could tell you that being silent is my way to calm my screaming mind . If only you could decipher my deepest silences, only then you would hear the loudest screams I have within me.

The March of death. To me it seems that , we have completely been blinded by the toxic love for evil , that totally incapacitated our soul , The virtues of fake nationalism , are totally impotent to understand , the fact that if patriotism was based on hate , As we are fed to consume “it” , In news bulletin is annoying, Vulgar and grotesque . Absurdity

Insomnia , at times hits you like a cannonball , Breaking every wall of your estranged mind and making you loose your “ sanity “ ! You have been trying to befriend the demons , feeding on your fears , But, Some nights, would just last for ever with no end in sight, Some nights are just cold . And you remind yourself that you are an “ invisible “ hero; And wait for the daybreak .

He murmured , "Hope" is a dangerous thing, Its makes you see things that aren't there. The " pain" makes you hallucinate , It's like dragging your torn and tired soul through the haunted woods,‎ And the light that you see at the end must be my calling! And she said , 'You are broken ... All beautiful things are broken !' A broken soul allows the "light to scatter like a Diamond

This arrogant, conceited history strides with her head in the clouds and never looks down. She does not realize how she crushes millions of people beneath her feet. The common people. She doesn't understand that one may cut a mountain in two, but people? It's a hard task, Bhai, to cute one people in two. They bleed." A deep sigh coursed through the gathering. Master Fazal said, "History will keep on marching like this. The names of a few people will stick to her fabric. She will register those. there was Hitler, there was Mussolini, Churchill and Joseph Stalin, among others. this time the names maybe Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Jinnah, Subhash Bose! But the names of the lakhs and crores who have lost their lives will be nowhere. They will be mere numbers in which all of us will be included!".

...and it's that time of the day when the fatigue sets in. No, not the physical type of fatigue that goes with a stretching of limbs or a session in my sauna; which in fact is sparkling signifying it's existence for sheer aesthetics rather that practical use! It was that mental fatigue , when my soul was exhausted and weary; that I needed a shot of Gatorade; just to calm my nerves, stopping me from hallucinations and let me fall asleep!

...and it's that time of the day when the fatigue sets in. No, not the physical type of fatigue that goes with a stretching of limbs or a session in my sauna ~ which in fact is sparkling signifying it's existence for sheer aesthetics rather that practical use! It was that mental fatigue , when my soul was exhausted and weary; that I needed a shot of Gatorade; just to calm my nerves, stopping me from hallucinations and let me fall asleep!

Life is a solitary confinement , Every second is a punishment - of a crime , that was never committed , Or perhaps, - the biggest crime of my age , is the silence of the soul. You suffer silently - as a sacrificial lamb to be slaughtered - for a cause that is greater than your own existence ! They label you as a hero , - a super human with super human strength . Yes , indeed . The wars you fight every day - every moment with your demons , and of course the price of being a hero ! Solitude , - A gift from god - A curse on your own self.

Sitting alone in the alley of dark submissive loneliness. Retrospecting on the things that were left unsaid , only if they weren't ! The monsters within my head grow stronger everyday , Fighting them everyday , I wonder , does it make me an unsung hero , no one knows about ! ? May be I will die like a unknown martyer within my own hallucinations Or may be perhaps I may be a sacrificial lamb . Happiness is but a dream I cherish most , I need peace , I have none . Set me free , I have been broken I want to breath ., my last ! I want to be free at last !

I'm a Kashmiri , I live in a rogue place. I'm surrounded by conformist , boot licking , people pleasing "herd"! People Safely cocooned in their stereotypical conformist lives, maintaining status quo , they make generic responses  expecting generic answers! 
For someone with an alien mentality like 'mine' , I am an out cast !  But it's 'them' who are the eerie one , like the deadly malignant tumour feeding on its own people ,  A parasite, growing inside the  system! Superficial faces , powdered with lies and deceit ;  people , like controlled robots, In love with their own ignorance !!

Dragging ourselves through the slides of pseudo reality , I have seen (us) craving for that " fix". Glued to the small screens , Alike an "event horizon" , transporting us to other dimension , contemplating likes ! Obsessed with over cropped out images of our ex lovers lover, Self contemplating and filtered obsession , who is getting fat and who all broke their back , Look at my carefully orchestrated life! Ain't I clever ?‎?? Look ,how much fun I had in the party! .....look at how well liked I am .?! I want all my 5000 fake friends to know that this is what fun is and I swear, I am ,having a good time!!!

I am so lost in the lost road , I chose this on my own , I emptied all that I had , All that I have left within , is emptiness - a void that refuses to fill. How can I be alone in a room ,filled with a million souls ? How can I stay hungry after feeding hundreds of homes ? How ? Is this the pain of letting go and raising towards transcendence - Where I leave all my worldly pleasures and seek union with the One ? -Or is it a bout of lucidity , that I am all by myself , carrying on , paying for the sins of others and living "BUT" for myself.... -an everyday stagmata where the pain is so numb, that the the body ceases to exist ?

The greed manifests us in many shapes, The high rise building, a big house , deforestation, no land to grow and no land to feed our own, Our very own People ! The money was deadly than any plague, People bought and sold people like a commodity ! and then , They divided us , according to our flawed faith..... The stench of ignorance fills the air, nestling at the base of our cortex . I refuse to be conquered ! The agenda was all clear from the start, Prospect of the land; they would rather see us disappear, Sold for seventy five lac a 100 years back‎, It's seventy five million wounds and every day to cry !! We are a " numb nation " We are a " slave nation " & I refuse to be conquered !!!

The pain makes you so numb, At times, you feel as if you are hallucinating, Seeing things happen to you as if it were happening to someone else like an " out of body experience". How could life be so cruel? Is this what perseverance and enduring pain is all about;I ask myself ? Somehow I have made myself believe that " jumping off the cliff " or " drowning myself " would do nothing to ease this "pain " ! this " numbness "! Seeing my loved one suffer after I am "gone" , I guess ,will make me more and more anxious ; Angry "ghosts " don't make good " providers" , I assume. So I carry on .. I carry on every day . It's a weight I have ... It makes my heart sink to the bottomless pit , But Then again, a man like me; a giver & a man with no choice has " literally" no choice" but to " live with this hollowed numb"‎!

They peer from beyond Glasses of locked cupboards, They stare longingly For months we do not meet The evenings once spent in their company Now pass at the computer screen. They are so restless now, these books- They have taken to walking in their sleep They stare longingly The values they stood for Whose batteries never died out Those values are no more found in homes The relationships they spoke of Have all come undone today A sigh escapes as I turn a page The meanings of many words have fallen off They appear like shrivelled, leafless stumps Where meaning will grow no more Many traditions lie scattered Like the debris of earthen cups Made obsolete by glass tumblers Each turn of the page Brought a new flavour to the tongue, Now a click of the finger Floods the screen with images, layer upon layer That bond with books that once was, is severed now We used to sometimes lie with them on our chest Or hold them in our lap Or balance them on our knees, Bowing our heads as in prayer Of course, the world of knowledge still lives on, But what of The pressed flowers and scented missives Hidden between their pages, And the love forged on the pretext Of borrowing, dropping and picking up books together What of them? That, perhaps, shall no longer be!

Humra Quraishi is one person I would like to mention in particular. We shared a lot of Kashmir though neither of us is from there.

It is believed that a community, a society, a nation is as strong and healthy as the stories they tell themselves.

A good storyteller is the conscience-keeper of a nation. And

Death you are a poem And I've been promised by a poem, that it shall meet me

झुंबराला हलकेच स्पर्श करीत हवा वावरते घरात तेव्हा तुझ्या आवाजाचेच जणू ती शिंपण करत राहाते गुदगुल्या केल्या की तू अशीच खुदखुद हसायचीस ना!

Our idea was to provide a platform for aspiring poets who can go on to say that they have been published alongside so and so. Often first-time writers are told that they need to experience life and write more. Putting the works side-by-side was to give young talent an edge. For instance, an 18-year-old’s works went alongside Gulzar’s, she (Fouqia) points out. - The New Indian Express

I believe the poem and the poet are one. All of us are a part of this universe, and there is a universe within us. So as individuals, we are poetic universes swinging in a rhythm, carving our paths like musical notes...

love the way you live.

चौक के बीचों बीच मगर, उस लोहे के जंगले के अन्दर, इक अंग्रेज़ का बुत था पहले, अब, गाँधी की मूर्ती है। लेकिन अब तो—— सन् उन्नीस सौ बानवे है!!

Ab thak gya hua maa mein kahi Chupaale daaman mein mujhe kahi

O Allah, I seek refuge in You from the accursed J&K Govt. officials, from his madness, his pride, and his poetry.

Ginkgo biloba has a long history of use in treating blood disorders and memory issues. It is best known today as way to potentially keep your memory sharp. Laboratory studies have shown that ginkgo improves blood circulation by opening up blood vessels and making blood less sticky. It is also an antioxidant.

So, you want to know what is so special about Cashmirian apple, try one from US and then one from apple orchards of Kashmir. You will yourself realise the difference. No offense meant, but the taste and aroma cannot be described by mere words. You have to feel it to know it.

If you any doubts regarding the disapproval of 5 Aug 2019 by JAMMU AND KASHMIR CITIZENS then please look at the recent DDC elections results. It was the first electoral exercise after 5 Aug 2019 and PAGD- People's Alliance for Gupkar Declaration won entire Kashmir and even won 35 seats in Jammu. Poor BJP could only secure half of Jammu. This essentially means that the majority of J&Kites are against 5 Aug 2019. Or if this doesn’t suffice then please come to J&K and speak to every section of J&Kites and find out the truth for yourself. Go ahead do a survey!

The international community must realize, that without a just and peaceful resolution to the Kashmir issue, regional peace will forever remain elusive....Sheikh Abdul Aziz, 1976

Echinacea purpurea (Asteraceae) is a perennial medicinal herb with important immunostimulatory and anti-inflammatory properties, especially the alleviation of cold symptoms. The plant also attracted scientists' attention to assess other aspects of its beneficial effects.

Repeatedly calling Jammu and Kashmir an integral part of India only raises doubts.

In folk medicine today, the Sambucus nigra -Elderberry is widely considered one of the world’s most healing plants

India is a military complex. It feeds on wars and conflicts.

If you're looking to benefit from better circulation and oxygen flow as provided by Ginkgo biloba, try Ginkgo leaf - an organic tea crafted from nature's finest herbs for circulation, including ginkgo.

It was the passage of the 21-year-old rebel who shunned masks and made technology his warhead. By the time the joint team of soldiers and special forces of JK Police men announced their “kill” in the dusky Kokernag hamlet, it was already a shot in their arm. Closer to Burhan’s Tral home, a Indian army garrison burst crackers in celebration. By then, mourners from across Kashmir had started swelling in Tral for the “new age icon’s” final send off.

किताबें झांकती हैं बंद आलमारी के शीशों से, बड़ी हसरत से तकती हैं, महीनों अब मुलाकातें नहीं होती, जो शामें उनकी सोहबत में कटा करती थीं, अब अक्सर गुजर जाती है कंप्यूटर के पर्दों पर..!

Kashmir flag is not a mere piece of fabric that flutters about in the breeze. It represents the feelings & ideals of the people for that for which it has been created & thus stands for.

India is a nation built by cowboys and pirates. There is no rule of law but rule of power and strength. I will take it from you if I am stronger than you. The mentality and mindset is clear.

Heaven vs Hell The US is criminal, perverse, war mad, uncivilised, crime ridden and full of mentally unstable people.

tongue or Zikar (remembrance of Allah) of the heart. 9.Baz Gast, it means  during  Zikar ( remembrance of Allah), praying  for the grant of  Maqsad (goal ), willingness , knowledge and love of Allah. 10.Nighadast, it means   not to reveal the condition and mysteries . 11.Yaddast, it means to be away from carelessness without endeavour and without work and to be  busy in condition  and mysteries and  not to think  about self-consciousness  and selflessness and such status which will be   available

with the holy saints of  Allah who will leave the world for the sake of love of Allah.      He was died

Khaja Abdul Khaliq Ghajidwani   He belongs to the sons of Imam Malik and he was a great mystic saint of his time. He was perfect in the following things. Knowledge of manifest Knowledge of innermost        His  mother ‘s genealogy tracing back to the royal family of Roman Kingdom. Before his birth Qizer (name of a prophet immortalized by fountain of life) has informed his father that a great holy saint will be born in his family.

1. Woof Qalbi (discernment with heart), it meant not to be  negligent at the time of Zikar (remembrance of Allah) and be careful  at that time. 2. Woof Adadi,  it means  when there is Zikar (remembrance of Allah ) with help of  Habas dam  (holding the breath ) then breath at the Taq (odd) number. 3. Woof Zamani, it means to watch every moment of life and be grateful  if  it is  spent in the  worship and if it is spent  in sins then beg pardon of  Allah in this matter. 4.Hush Warum, it means to  use every breath in Zikar (remembrance)

Karo, it means to leave carelessness with the help of Zikar (remembrance of  Allah) of the

5.Nazra Barqadam,  to walk on the way  while keeping head down and keep your sight at your backside. 6.Safar Dar Watan, to leave Sifat Bashriya (greed and desires ) and follow Sifat Malikya  (angelic qualities ) and follow  the worship and Tasbih (glorification of Allah). 7.Khilwat Dar Anjuman, it means  while living with mankind but in that condition do not leave  Batin (innermost ) with Allah.

अपनी मर्ज़ी से तो मज़हब भी नहीं उसने चुना था, उसका मज़हब था जो माँ बाप से ही उसने विरासत में लिया था— अपने माँ बाप चुने कोई ये मुमकिन ही कहां है मुल्क में मर्ज़ी थी उसकी न वतन उसकी रज़ा से वो तो कुल नौ ही बरस का था उसे क्यों चुन कर, फ़िर्क़ादाराना फ़सादात ने कल क़त्ल किया—!!

बुद्धम शरणम गच्छामि, और बुद्धम शरणम गच्छामि— ये जाप मुसलसल सुनते सुनते, अब लगता है जैसे मंतर नहीं, चेतावनी है ये— “मुक्ति राह” से बाहर आना,— अब उतना ही मुश्किल है, जितना संसार से बाहर जाना मुश्किल था!! क

This arrogant, conceited history strides with her head in the clouds and never looks down. She does not realize how she crushes millions of people beneath her feet. The common people. She doesn't understand that one may cut a mountain in two, but people? It's a hard task, Bhai, to cute one people in two. They bleed.

A deep sigh coursed through the gathering. Master Fazal said, 'History will keep on marching like this. The names of a few people will stick to her fabric. She will register those. there was Hitler, there was Mussolini, Churchill and Joseph Stalin, among others. this time the names maybe Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Jinnah, Subhash Bose! But the names of the lakhs and crores who have lost their lives will be nowhere. They will be mere numbers in which all of us will be included!

भिनभनाहट भी नहीं सुबह से घर में उसकी, मेरे बच्चों में घिरी बैठी है, ममता से भरा शहद का छत्ता लेकर!!

सिरे उधड़ गये है, सुबह-ओ-शाम के वो मेरे दो जहान साथ ले गया

कोई नज़्म कहो, वक़्त की नब्ज़ रुकी है! कुछ कहो, वक़्त की नब्ज़ चले!!

छनाके से गिरी आवाज़

जलती हुयी किर्चें!

दरख़्त उगते हैं कुछ सोच सोच कर जैसे जो सर उठाएगा पहले वही क़लम होगा

मुझे ख़र्ची में पूरा एक दिन, हर रोज़ मिलता है