एक चेहरा देख के आज
वो चेहरा याद आया है
जो देखा है वो अन्जाना
याद आया वो बेगाना है

वो चेहरा बिन बोले
कितना कह पाया है
अनदेखी सी दुनिया
वो सामने लाया है

इतना कुछ कह के भी
वो चेहरा बेगाना है
अपनी ही बातों से
क्या खुद अन्जाना है

वो चेहरा ना बोला था
ना कुछ सुन पाया है
मेरे मन की है ये बातें
चेहरा तो बस साया है

I saw a face today and now
her face I again remember
Whom I saw I do not know
And she is still a stranger

She did not say a word but still
her face spoke of grandeur
An unseen world before my eyes
her face was able to conjure

Her face said so much and yet
To me she is still a stranger
To all that her face conveyed
is she herself a stranger?

For she never spoke a word
My words she didn’t embrace
My mind it was that projected
its own words onto her face

Short Review: Coffee in the Afternoon

Coffee in the Afternoon is a short story by Christopher Chinchilla.

The blurb on Amazon says: In a quiet café, Johnny tells his religiously-oppressive wife, Jessica, that he wants a divorce—and that he’s taking their daughter, Lily, with him.

That is an interesting setting for the story and I wondered how the author would develop it in such a short story, just 14 pages.

The descriptions are vivid and make the scene stand out. There is another character in the story – something I did not expect. But it serves its purpose rather well by giving a concrete form to something that would otherwise have remained intangible. The focus on values and the way they are brought out lends a depth to the story that is refreshing to see.

The characters are interesting, but given the difference in their values, the situation they are in seems somewhat unlikely and I was a little disappointed to not have an explanation for it. But that would be difficult in a story of this length, so really, I would have liked this to be more than a short story.

Overall, it is definitely worth reading and a very good investment of the 10 minutes it takes to read it. I look forward to reading more and longer works from the author.


There has always burned a fire
that gave me light and heat
that powered every desire
and kept me on my feet

That fire needed fuel
I wonder whence it came
I must have burned up too much
the fire is now quite tame

Some sparks are still left over
to remind me of what once was
I am still moving forward
but momentum is now the cause

I mis-conceived my pursuit
lost more than I could reclaim
I burned a part of myself
that will never be the same

I was certain of my success
on a path not quite my own
but a path of such great import
is a path I must walk alone

I need to reinvent myself
and stoke up the fire again
the fuel I took for granted
I must work to now regain

These words are an effort
to seek what must be sought
the fuel that I am after
I must find it in my thought


क्या सब्र क्या नादानी
ये समझ ना मैने पाई
मेरा सब्र हुआ नाकाम
नादानी मगर रंग लाई

दिल के अरमानों की
कीमत ऐसी चुकाई
अरमान रहे अधूरे
पूरी हुई तन्हाई

आँखों की इस नामी की
समझे ना वो गहराई
जागी ये जिनके बाबत
कीमत भी ना लगाई

ये बेबसी का आलम
देता है ये दुहाई
अरमान ना ऐसे करना
ना हो जिनकी अफज़ाई

Rought translation for my English readers:

I could not distinguish between persistence and foolishness
My persistence did not pay off but my foolishness brought results

I paid the price for the desires of my heart
My desires remained unfulfilled, but my loneliness is complete

She did not understand the depth of feeling behind my moist eyes
The object of these feelings did not attach a value to them

This state of helplessness cries out to me and tells me
not to have desire whose object doesn’t encourage them

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